The Lightning's Child
by The Lupine Sojourner
Summary: Running in a thunderstorm was CLEARLY not her brightest idea. She then appears out of nowhere in the fields of Rohan as the Three Hunters run to retrieve the Hobbits. She bears strange markings, like a leaf-less tree, imprinted on her left side and limbs, running with the Hunters, right into Eomer. Uses books, movies, and my twists. Features Eomer/OC as main couple & canon couples.
1. Prologue: Arrival

**SO! AFTER READING A FEW STORIES LIKE THIS, I TRIED TO COME UP WITH MY OWN SPIN ON THE IDEA. HOPE YOU LIKE IT!**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

Running in the rain has never been a struggle or something to hate for me.

To the contrary, I quite enjoyed it. It seemed to wash away my troubles, leaving them pounded thoroughly into the ground I left behind. That being said…

I had never been in a storm like _this_. Guess that's what I get for choosing to live in the mountains of Scotland near Loch Ness. I suppose they had a charm I couldn't resist and a peace well worth the occasional storm my choice of habitat cost me. But, again, this was worse than any I had run in before. Lightning flashed all around me, thunder drowning out whatever noise I made. I pressed on doggedly, however, refusing to let the elements beat me into submission.

Cursing, I slip just as I round a tight corner on the edge of a steep bank of the mysterious lake. I tumble harshly down the hill and just as I hit the water, I feel lightning strike my chest, right over my heart, and I know nothing but pain, then darkness takes me as I sink deeper into the water, a strange peace suddenly overcoming me as my eyes slide closed.

=#=#=#=#=

I slowly come to to find myself leaning against something that feels like stone. I would frown if I had the energy.

I had hit the...the water...just as lightning struck me. I hadn't been stopped by a stone. There were no stones in my path to hit, really. So...why was I leaning against stone now? Were there stones in heaven? Had I died? I move to swallow, though my mouth and throat are too dry for it to accomplish anything more than irritating my already sore throat. I hear a ringing in my ears akin to tinnitus as I moan a little.

"Aragorn, the stranger awakes." I hear someone call, his voice melodic and pleasant, rising above the ringing. Was he an angel of some sort? Here to guide me to whatever awaits the dead? I then hear shuffling and a hand upon my brow.

"Gimli, bring water. Our guest is starting to burn with dehydration." Another voice orders, this one a natural leader, a voice of authority, his deep, rich baritones calming.

"Aye." A gruff, but not altogether unpleasant voice replies, moving away to obey the command. I shift my eyes and they slit open. I suddenly am aware of warmth coming from a source directly in front of me and a light crackling noise. My eyes open more to reveal that I am sitting before a fire in the small hours before dawn. I blink. How long had I been out? I'd been running in the early morning…but not _this_ early.

I am then drawn to the man beside me I hadn't noticed before as he accepts something from the figure I take to be Gimli, presumably the requested water. His back was turned to me, so I could not be certain. "Pleasure to see you awake, lass. You gave us quite a shock." Gimli (I recognize his voice from earlier) politely informs me, tipping his head slightly, red hair plaited down his back and beard nearly hiding everything but his eyes. Aragorn, I think, moves the thing he took from Gimli closer to my mouth and I am somehow able to move and accept the water, gulping large mouthfuls down greedily. I suppose a lightning strike would do that to you.

"Careful." Aragorn cautions. I know he is Aragorn now that I have heard his voice. "You do not wish to drink too much and end up worse for it." I nod slowly, looking at Gimli again, and find that he could be a native of Scotland. The frizzy red hair, the full beard, the manner in which he speaks, I've heard and seen it all before.

"Th-thanks." I croak through my slightly parched throat. Aragorn sits back a little, smiling as he puts the water aside. I note it's in some kind of bag, but set that aside for now as the third member of this trio, the one that informed Aragorn that I was awake, comes forth.

"What are your symptoms, milady?" He asks, crouching at my other side. I frown. 'Milady'?

"Ringing in my ears, a migraine, and a parched throat." I report. Aragorn nods.

"All signs of dehydration. However, we are near a river. How did you come to be in this condition?" He asks. I struggle to sit up again and end up against the rock once more.

"Lightning strike." I tell them. Gimli scoffs, opening his mouth to reply, but Aragorn glances at him, and Gimli stills.

"Milady, there has been no rain here in weeks. How could you have been struck by lightning?" I frown. There most certainly _had_ been rain. Just last night, unless I had been unconscious far longer than I thought. And why do they insist on calling me 'milady'? Odd...

"I don't- -I was in a storm. I was running around Loch Ness, and- -"

"Loch Ness?" Aragorn asks. "Never have I heard of a place by that name, and I know these lands well."

"It's just over…" I start before realizing that I had no clue where I was. This place feels unfamiliar. "Aren't we near a lake?" Aragorn shakes his head.

"There is no lake in Rohan, mi- -"

"Rowena." I interject. I wasn't used to being addressed by anything else. "My name is Rowena." Aragorn nods.

"Very well. There are no lakes in Rohan, Rowena." He repeats. I frown. Why does that sound familiar..?

"Rohan?" I ask Gimli comes forward.

"Aye, Rohan. Where else should we be?"

"Um...Scotland?" I reply, now feeling up to moving to sit up and accomplishing the goal at last. Aragorn steadies me with a hand on my back.

"There is no Scotland in Middle-Earth, Rowena." I pale. Wait… "Where exactly do you think you are?" Aragorn asks. Good question, I muse inwardly. I swallow.

"My...my home in...oh, man…" Suddenly, everything clicks and I groan, realizing what this means; I had somehow been transported to Middle-Earth, a fictional land in a book series I hadn't heard or read in years. I'd never even finished reading it all the way through; I only got to Two Towers before my life became too busy and I was too bored to continue reading. "Okay…" I breath. "I am sorry. My mind was...was hazy." I apologize, trying to sound more confident that I knew where I was now than I truly felt. "So, we are in Rohan?" Aragorn apparently can tell I lie, but does not press me.

"Yes. We are tracking Uruk-Hai across these lands to rescue our companions, a pair of Halflings." I searched my memory. Someone created Uruk-Hai, right? In a palace-tower thing? And Halflings...were Hobbits, if I remember right. I nod. "We came across you when we stopped for the night. On our approach, I swore nothing was here, but you were lying against the rock when we arrived to rest for a few hours." I nod again, processing all this information.

"So I've only been out for a few hours?" Aragorn nods.

"As far as we can tell, yes."

"Gave us quite a scare, you did. Thought you were dead, but here you are, and we are glad to hear it!" Gimli adds cheerily. I smile.

"Yeah, me, too." Aragorn frowns, moving to get a better look at me.

"I would say you are Gondorian, by your dark hair, but you have the eyes of a Rohir." I chuckle.

"Not an uncommon combination, where I am from." I reply before I can stop myself. The trio stiffens, but Aragorn and the still unknown man (he's startlingly beautiful and entrancing to look at) act as though suspicions were merely being confirmed.

"Are you not from here, lady Rowena?" The only member whose name I don't know asks. "There is something foreign in your presence and countenance, but perhaps you are simply a traveler." _I suppose that's somewhat true. A traveler between worlds, apparently._ I swallow.

"...No. I am from a...a very distant land, far, far away." Aragorn leans forward.

"Tell me. I know of many lands."

"...A land called Scotland, in what I believe may be an entirely different world." I reply after a moment. Aragorn frowns, a calculatingly piercing gaze fixed on me.

"And yet, you wear clothes that seem from _this_ world." He notes. I look down, frowning. I realize that I have, indeed, gotten a change of clothes. Where should have been drenched running capris, a three-quarter sleeve shirt and running shoes, there was now a pair of cotton leggings, thick and warm against night's chill with a simple shirt under a thick, fur-lined coat, complete with knit arm warmers to keep my forearms warm whenever I remove the coat. I was also wearing a pair of knee-length leather boots that seemed already molded to my feet, fur peeking out. I blink.

"I was not wearing this a moment ago. I was running around a lake in a thunderstorm, when I stumbled and fell, lightning striking me as I hit the water." I explain, finding a satchel beside me. I had never seen it before and yet it seemed familiar to me. Aragorn frowns.

"Why were you running in a thunderstorm? Were you being pursued?" I shake my head.

"I am stubborn and didn't let the rain deter me from my daily run. I see now it was a very foolish idea, but the rain did not start til I was already a few miles away from home and I didn't want to cut the run short." I explain. The three men look at me strangely.

"Your...daily run?" Aragorn asks. I nod.

"My daily exercise. I run around six miles a day." Gimli guffaws, but Aragorn nods.

"If that is true or not, we will soon know. Our pursuit is delayed by your arrival, milady, and now we must press on. You are to come with us, I'm afraid. I would not risk harm to you in these lands and we are out of other options." I nod, grabbing my satchel, pulling the strap over my head and settling it in a position that would not (hopefully) hinder my running.

"Alright then." I tell them, motioning them on. "Right behind you."

=#=#=#=#=

I regret my decision! My legs are aching and my breath has long since abandoned me. My satchel has created a bruise against my thigh and I am about to pass out or give up, letting them run on without me.

"Keep breathing. That's the key." Gimli groans beside me, falling a little behind. "Just keep breathing." I nod, but can't speak as I press on doggedly. It felt as though I were on my first run. It was nearing 11:00 in the morning and not _once_ had we stopped.

These three must be _truly_ desperate to reclaim their friends if they press themselves past physical limits like this, which brings me to a slightly disturbing thoughts: How are we going to be able to fight off whatever awaits us if we are exhausted from running? I ignore the thought and continue on.

I suppose we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.


	2. Running

**HERE WE GO WITH THE SECOND CHAPTER! HOPE YOU ALL LIKE IT! I AM MAKING A HYBRID BETWEEN THE BOOKS AND MOVIES, SO EVENTS WILL BE A BIT DIFFERENT THAN YOU ARE FAMILIAR WITH. HOPE YOU DON'T MIND.**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

Two more hours were spent running before we were able to halt, as Aragorn leapt off the path of the tracks we were apparently following (I couldn't see them beyond the trampled grass from my companions) and was soon back, reporting that one of the Halflings (PIppin, I think Aragorn called him) had left the group of their captors and tossed what appeared to be a leaf, stiff and frozen, but it soon became apparent that it was some kind of brooch, meant to fasten something together or for mere decoration. Aragorn and the others looked on it grimly.

"Not idly do the Leaves of Lorien fall." Aragorn notes heavily. I frown.

"What does this mean?" I ask, suddenly noting that all three of the men I run with have grey, embroidered cloaks fastened about their necks with the same brooch that lay, dirty, in the man's hand.

"It means we are on the right track and that our friends still have the use of legs and reason." The slender blonde man, who had introduced himself as Legolas during one of our brief rests, replied. Aragorn had often accounted for the Uruk's changing position and pace by merely lying on the ground, listening intently and so gave us brief rests I took to eat what the men call Lembas bread, as well as water. I was amazed the he could read the earth like that, and knew better than to question him, as he was, so far, leading us in the right direction, according to the flat grass trail we ran along. Gimli, now a few feet behind me, came stumbling over a rock, tumbling over the edge and coming clumsily to his feet.

"Come on, Gimli, and Lady Rowena! We're gaining on them!" Legolas calls eagerly, striding forward before turning his head and starting to run.

"I'm wasted on cross-country! We Dwarves are natural sprinters." Gimli moans, shuffling forward. I blink. Okay...I remember Dwarves being in the books, I think. "Very dangerous over short distances, milady." He explains. I nod.

"If you can speak, you can run faster. Come along!" I call, picking up the pace, ignoring the slight dizziness and light-headed feeling clinging to me, more prominent in my left side. It was only getting worse and I knew that once I stopped, I would need to sleep for as long as our hasty pursuit allowed. So I pressed myself harder and made what energy I had left count. Suddenly, Aragorn and Legolas come to a halt and peer across the land.

"Rohan, home of the Horse-Lords." Aragorn informs me as I draw up next to him. I frown a little, panting, wondering what that might mean. He's panting a little, as well, but seems okay to carry on. I am bent double, barely upright with my hands on my knees. Stars dance before my eyes and I blink them away, straightening up again. "Something strange is at work here." Aragorn notes, frowning as he scans the area again. "Some evil gives speed to these creatures, sets its will against us."

"That's just _great_." I grumble sarcastically, leaning against a nearby rock outcropping. "At least we're...we're gaining on them, right?" Legolas nods, then looks directly at me.

"Lady Rowena, are you alright?" I nod through the resurging stars and spots, taking in air with a measured calm I didn't quite feel. The ringing had intensified as I pressed myself closer to collapse.

"I'll be fine." I reply, taking a proffered nip of Lembas. This bread was sweet yet sustaining, light yet rich. It also does not give me cramps as I run. A real marvel to behold. Life seeps a little back into me and I feel a little steadier. Legolas and Aragorn then move out, Gimli and I coming along behind. Aragorn halts again after two hours, Legolas running to a higher rock to have another look around.

"Legolas, what do your Elf eyes see?" Aragorn calls. I wasn't shocked by the different races anymore. After all, he seems a little _too_ good-looking to be entirely human. Legolas continues his search before replying.

"The Uruks turn northeast!" They're taking the Hobbits to Isengard!" He calls back. I can't help but crack a smile, playing that stupid remix in my head. Aragorn frowns, eyes growing worried and desperate, eyes still scanning the area. I cock a brow, though, at the mention of Isengard. I can't remember. He notices.

"Home of the evil wizard Sauruman." He tells me. I nod. Right. That was the Uruk-Hai creator's name, if my memory serves. I remember now that it was said aloud and I didn't have to dig it out of memory. We pressed on until dawn with only a brief moment to get water and a hasty breakfast. Now that our hunt was nearing it's end...my mind turned to what would happen when we did reach them. I was in no condition to fight, and I imagine neither are my companions, if it came down to it. However many enemies there were, we stood little chance of actually taking them out and retrieving the Halfings that had been stolen. I still didn't know much about what was happening, too focused on working through my present pain to really try and remember. Legolas halts for a moment to scan the sunrise. His eyes widen.

"A red sun rises. Blood has been split this night." He whispers. I swallow, wondering whether or not it was the Hobbits', but unwilling to drag everyone's mood down by verbalizing my thoughts. Another few hours and we were halted as Aragorn consulted the ground. Suddenly, there was a noise like thunder (I stiffen, the phantom pain of electricity sending a pricking sensation across my chest and down my left leg and arm) and a whistle. I frown, running with the men to a rock we dodge behind. The thunder increases and suddenly there are a great number of horses and riders tumbling past us down the hill. Evidently, Aragorn recognizes these riders and is soon on their outskirts without fear.

"Aragorn!" I hiss. He doesn't even look at me, cupping his hands around his mouth in increase the volume of his voice.

"Riders of Rohan!" He calls. "What news from the Mark?" He asks, and at the head of the charge, a tall man in a helm with a plume of horse hair (or that's what it looks like. That, coupled with the fact that this is apparently the 'land of the Horse-Lords', leads me to believe I am right) raises a spear and as one the entire troupe turns and comes swinging back around. I take a step out with Legolas and Gimli as the horses approach, unable to hear anything over the ringing in my ears and the thunder of hooves. As the riders come closer, they spread out and before I fully realize it, we are surrounded and any chance of slipping out of the circle was lost. We tense, me wanting nothing more than to collapse in exhaustion. The horses stomp, but come to a standstill at their masters' direction, the men as tense as we are. I suddenly find myself in the middle of the circle of men as the riders' spears come down and point themselves at our chests. Tense seconds pass as we await these men's next move. The man who had signalled his men to turn around, bearing himself in a proud, authoritative manner, comes forward confidently into his men's thicket of spears.

"What business does a Man, a Woman, an Elf, and a Dwarf have in the Riddermark?" He demands harshly, as if annoyed at being halted from his business. I wait for Aragorn to have the first word, to decide where this was going to go. "Speak quickly!" The man snaps. I flinch slightly, and in so doing, unleash a sudden pounding in my ears as I sway on my feet a little. Legolas subtly offers his arm and I lean as little into the support as possible. If I were to draw attention to myself, it may cause problems and further hinderance on our quest. And we needed all the speed we could muster.

"Tell me your name, horse master, and I shall tell you mine." Gimli replies cockily, leaning smugly on his ax handle. The man glares at the Dwarf, hands his spear to a nearby rider, and dismounts, stomping forward furiously.

"I would cut off your head, _Dwarf_ , if it stood but a little higher from the ground." The man seethed through gritted teeth. Gimli looked nonplussed, but suddenly, the support of Legolas was withdrawn and I was left to fall abruptly down, the stars and spots nearly stealing all of my vision, my head whirling painfully.


	3. Aid From a Stranger

**SUP, Y'ALL! HERE'S ANOTHER CHAPTER FOR YOU ALL. HOPE YOU LIKE! NOW, BEFORE WE BEGIN, I WANT TO TAKE A MOMENT TO RECOGNIZE AND GIVE A SHOUT-OUT TO THE TWO REVIEWERS, JAKEMNASH AND ME NOT YOU 1001. YOU GUYS ROCK! THNK YOU FOR YOUR SWEET WORDS ON MY STORY. THEY MEAN A LOT! I'M GLAD YOU ARE ENJOYING MY STORY SO FAR!**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

Guess running for days on end finally took it's toll. I glance up to blearily see that Legolas was threatening the leader with an arrow, saying something about dying, strokes and falling. Aragorn thankfully intervenes and pushes the Elf's bow down and away from the leader, who now glowers fiercely at the Elf. No one has apparently noticed that I am ready to pass out, which I guess is- -

"Are you alright, milady?" Legolas asks, finally turning once Aragorn began introducing our group, making sure to give the name Strider (something I made a note to ask about at some point) and to mention that we were friends of Rohan and Theoden, whoever- -or _what_ ever- -that was. The leader looks pensive, as if this struck a chord with him, conversing with Aragorn about his given name for a moment (I barely catch the man's name as Eomer) before eying me as he considers everything said thus far. His eyes widen slightly.

"Is there something wrong with the lady?" He asks, nodding to me as Legolas gently pulls me to my feet. I shake my head, regardless of the near nausea this brings on.

"No, sir." I blearily mumble, leaning on Legolas a little more. Aragorn curses under his breath.

"We've pressed ourselves hard these last few days and you were already exhausted when we began!" He exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell us of your condition sooner?!" He demands, all but taking me into his arms with all the support his strong arms provided. I shrug, chuckling a little.

"I am stubborn. I didn't- -there were more important matters at hand." I reply, nearly giving away our purpose here, something Aragorn was evidently not ready to do just yet. "We all cast aside comfort for speed." I point out.

"We must take her to the nearest village and let her rest." Aragorn surmises. Eomer comes forward.

"Theoden no longer recognizes friend from foe, and as such has tightened the laws on outsiders and travelers. We are no longer to harbor anyone but by the King's consent." He explains grimly, looking none too happy about it. "That being said," he continues, "If I take her straight to Edoras, it will be too late to refuse her hospitality. The fact that she is a woman may give us the deciding factor we need to ensure she receive the care she needs." He concludes. Aragorn nods.

"I would be most appreciative of the assistance, milord." He replies gratefully. The leader then steps forward and offers his arm, and I take it wearily. My legs suddenly refused to function but little. "We discovered her two days into our journey from Tol Brandir. Since then, it has been nigh on three days of hard, swift travel." Eomer's eyes widen.

"On foot?!" He exclaims in wonder.

"Yes, as you see us now." Aragorn replies. Eomer whistles in admiration.

"Strider is too poor a name for you! Windfoot, I name you. This deed of the four friends will be sung in many a hall. Forty leagues and five you measured ere the fifth day has ended!" His bewilderment and wonder are short-lived, however. His face sobers as he hitches me a little higher against his side. I flush a little, but contain myself. "These days are grown dark, I fear. Our chief concern now is with Saruman. He has claimed lordship over all this land, slowly poisoning the mind of our King, and there has been war between us for many months. The White Wizard is cunning." He warns severely, stepping closer. "He walks here and there, they say, as an old man hooded and cloaked. And everywhere, his spies slip past our nets." He is right to be cautious, I muse inwardly, even as he holds me a little closer so he can get a better grip on me. His words seem to hint that he won't help, but if he really wanted to refuse to help us, he'd simply let me fall back to the ground.

"We are no spies. We track a party of Uruk-Hai across the plain. They have taken two of our friends captive." Aragorn replies calmly before anyone else can. Eomer's eyes flash in recognition and loathing. I blink. What?

"The Uruks are destroyed; we slaughtered them in the night, piled their carcasses, and burned them." He seethes, then his face softens a little. "We left none alive." I blanch, the blood fleeing my head and making it pound harder.

"But there were two Hobbits! Did you see two Hobbits with them?!" Gimli cries. Eomer frowns.

"Hobbits?" He asks "And what may they be? It is a strange name." He adds.

"A strange name for a strange folk." Replied Gimli hurriedly. "But these were very dear to us. Hobbits are also called Halflings."

"'Halflings'?!" Scoffs the rider beside Eomer. "Halfings." He repeats. "But they are only a little people in old songs and children's tales out of the North. Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?" He asks mockingly. He then turns to Eomer. "Time is pressing. We must hasten south Lord, if the rumor is true. Let us leave these wild folk to their fancies. Or let us bind them and take them to the King."

"Peace, Eothain!" Eomer replies. "Leave me a while. Tell the eored to assemble on the path and make ready to ride on to the Entwade." He orders. "Then we ride for Edoras. Will you meet us there?" Aragorn frowns.

"I cannot abandon my friends while hope remains." He declares resolutely.

"Hope does not remain." Eomer replies grimly. "You will not find your friends on the North-borders. I would swear no Orc escaped after we sighted them." I swallow. "If you are resolute, we both have need of haste; my company chafes to be away from our business and every hour lessens your hope. I will let you go, and what is more; i will lend you horses. May they bear you to better fortune than their masters. This only I ask: that once your quest here is fulfilled, you return with the horses over the Entwade to Meduseld, the high house in Edoras where Theoden now sits. Thus you shall prove to him that I have not misjudged. In this I place myself, and maybe my life, in the keeping of your good faith. Do not fail." Sure enough, two horses are led up from within the circle and presented.

"I will not. I must be back for the lady in any case." Aragorn replies. Eomer begins to lead me over to his horse.

"You know my name, Strider." I mumble drowsily. "Its Rowena." Eomer nods, frowning, apparently thinking I spoke to him.

"Well met, milady. I am Eomer, son of Eomund." I nod.

"Nice to meet you, Eomer." I reply as he eases my way onto the saddle before climbing on himself.

"Farewell." Eomer bids my companions as he slips his helmet back on. "Look for your friends, but do not trust to hope; it has forsaken these lands." He surmises grimly before lightly kicking his horse's sides. "We ride north!" He cries to his men and we're off. His strong arms wrap around me and I have to seriously fight to keep my eyes open at the swaying. Eventually, I fall asleep, exhaustion finally claiming me.


	4. Traveling to Edoras

**THIS IS (I THINK) ONE OF IF NOT THE LONGEST CHAPTER YET FOR THIS STORY. YAY! ANYWAY, THIS STORY HAS ME, HOOK, LINE, AND SINKER. SORRY NOT SORRY. LET ME KNOW IF YOU ALL LIKE IT!**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

Something cold and wet, several somethings in fact, trailing down my nose, wakes me. I am still in Eomer's arms, though we are coming to a river swiftly. Is this the Entwade? I can't tell, knowing nothing of Middle-Earth geography, having not looked at a map of the land in as long as I had not read the books. I shift a little to sit more on my own and Eomer'r arms tighten. I notice we are riding through a rainstorm and the idea frightens me a little, having died in one before my arrival here.

"You slept for nearly five hours, Lady Rowena, and the land was not always smooth. Truly, you are in desperate need of rest." He says, even as we round a corner of the woodlands, bursting out and discovering that we are on the bank. Ahead, there are several bodies lying as if at rest, but soon enough, I pale as I realize what it was; evidence of a massacre, bodies strewn about in the positions death had found them in. We ride closer and Eomer dismounts, hurriedly offering his hand and I swing down awkwardly, stumbling a little as my legs reawaken from their rest. I stumble nearer with Eomer, whose eyes scan the area in horror and desperation, men in similar armor to himself and his men strewn about with...some foul, grotesque mutants taking up the other spaces. The man had put up a good fight, but were slaughtered.

I hurl at the sight, unable to stop the flood of bile rushing up my throat.

"Lady Rowena?" Eomer asks worriedly, having given some order to his men before coming to place an unsure hand on my shoulder. I keep my eyes down, for fear of hurling again should I have to see all this death again. I nod shakily.

"I apologize, Eomer. I…" He squeezes my shoulder in understanding.

"This is your first sighting of death?" I nod grimly, still not looking up. Before either one of us says another word, a soldier cries out.

"Mordor will pay for this!" He growls. Eomer steps over to a body of a mutation, kicking it over savagely.

"These Orcs are not from Mordor." He spits, just as a different soldier hails him.

"My lord Eomer!" He cries. "Over here!" I frown, risking making eye contact with Eomer and managing to avoid looking at the bodies as I ask him for information without words.

"Theodred." He whispers, before sprinting over and coming to his knees before a body. His eyes desperately scan the young man's limp face before cracking a tiny hopeful smirk. "He's alive." He cheers, hoisting the man into his arms and swiftly striding to his horse. "Milady, grab a helmet, if you will." He calls to me over his shoulder. "We'll need it as proof."

"Of what?" I ask. Eomer's face darkens frightfully and I pity however made that look come forth; they'd sorely regret it.

"Betrayal." Is his only reply.

=#=#=#=#=

The land is dry, the sun burning away the rainwater after the rain ceases, but the memories of the massacre are not so easily evaporated.

Those poor men...they'd probably had no warning.

And yet...they'd fought well. They'd managed to take a large amount of, if not the entirety of, the company of those hideous Orcs with them. I have learned that the young man that we rescued, Theodred, probably the lone survivor of the massacre, was Eomer's cousin and the son of Rohan's King, a man named Theoden. It was also to him I had to make a plea for my stay at Edoras, something like a capital city in Rohan. At least, it was where the king lived. Eomer had warned me of my slim chances of being allowed to stay without some payment, either of money or service. I nodded grimly. Apparently, whatever deities exist here, they want me to suffer. The night comes on swiftly after a long, wet afternoon riding. I am able to stretch my legs, which are tensing up and not quite growing accustomed to working again. Men bustle about, setting up camp, and the man I had shared a saddle with (the only spare horses were lent to the trio I'd left behind) found his place in the relatively organized chaos, leaving me standing there awkwardly. I make my way though the men and eventually come across Eomer, gently laying his cousin down on as soft a mattress as can be arranged in the wilderness; a bedroll with a saddle for a pillow.

"Do you know any healing, Lady Rowena?" Eomer asks desperately, not looking up from his task of taking off the prince's armor to reveal whatever injuries there were to be found. I swallow. No, I don't. Not anything that counts. Nothing that would treat whatever has landed Theodred in this condition. Nevertheless, I take a waterskin and a small cauldron meant for stew. I had, after all, kicked around the idea of studying to become an Army medic. I may as well test my skills.

"Little, but I can try to at least clean the wounds out and bind them as best I can." Eomer nods, automatically rising and aiding me in kindling a fire. I fill the cauldron before trying to remember if I had ever learned healing herbs. Uh...nope. Guess water would have to do. Soon enough, the water is steaming and then, not five minutes later, it is boiling. I swallow. "We're going to need to hold him down." I choke out and try not to throw up again. Not now. I had work to do. Eomer calls to the nearest men and they come over, each grabbing a limb as I retrieve- -rosemary! Lavender! I remember now! I had been curious to find out if herbs were as good as man-made treatments one day. "Eomer! Do we have rosemary and lavender? If I remember right, they help the healing process." I tell him eagerly.

"It cannot do worse damage, at the very least." He nods and calls for the ingredients. Soon a few men come forth. When they arrive at Lord Eomer's side, he directes them to me and I put the herbs in the water, crushing them between my hands to start releasing the juices and oils. I stir the herbs in, breathing in the smell. It relaxes me and I forget for a moment the urgency and the worry and everything.

Only for a moment while it steeps. Then, I remember and collect myself. "Ready?" I ask. The men nod grimly, holding the poor prince down. I take a single deep breath and swallow to compose myself and reluctantly pour the water into the wound. As predicted, Theodred screams out in agony and writhes in the mens' restraint, but they are strong and the resistance hold him fairly still. I swallow and move to mop up the water before pouring more, to renewed screams. I bite my lip to keep from crying. He sounds so hurt and agonized...I steel myself and continue cleaning the wound with as much gentleness as I could while still getting the mud and bacteria out. I then turn to the fire, where I had placed a discarded sword. We would need to cauterize the wound to stop the bleeding. A nearby man seems to understand and withdraws the blade. I direct him over and he readies the blade as I finish drying the wound. I nod shakily and the blade descends.

If the screams of the water were bad...these screams left them far behind. I grimace and help guide the sword more steadily up the wound, sealing it as Theodred became weary of his thrashing apparently, and slowly became still. We all relax as the man who grabbed the sword now sets it beside the fire, just far enough away to cool. I feel Theodred's brow. It's slick with sweat and he's pale as a sheet, but his breathing is a little easier now and he doesn't seem in so much pain as before. I breath a sigh of relief, letting my eyes close and let myself relax, suddenly realizing just how exhausted I really was. My legs tremble and I sink gratefully to the floor before the fire, eyes watching Theodred as I waited to see if he would get worse or improve, but I suppose it wouldn't happen this fast.

"You did well." Eomer notes, settling wearily beside me. He has now taken off his armor and wears only a cotton shirt and trousers. I smile, leaning on him in the absence of any other support. He seems to pick up that I was tired and does not either push me away or comment. "After the river, I would have thought you wouldn't have handled the task of healing well. But you have, I think, spared my cousin. I owe you a debt." I flush a little.

"Milord, really, I- -"

"Am to be thanked and praised for your efforts, no matter what may come." Eomer interjects, picking up my hand and placing a small, light kiss on the knuckles. I blush and gently take my hand back, not wanting to be rude.

"So. We will arrive at Edoras tomorrow?" I ask to change topics. Eomer nods.

"Yes. Now, I believe it is time we all retired for the night. We have a hard ride ahead of us and much has happened this day." I nod and move with Eomer to one of the many tents set up around the camp at his insistence. "I would not ask you to sleep under the stars, milady, but I understand if you- -"

"It's alright, Lord Eomer." I interrupt, picking up on this man's customary titles from nearby men bidding him a goodnight without so much as a glance my way. "At any rate, it will be better than the bare sky above me and cold ground below." He chuckles.

"Indeed. You are fortunate I have a spare bedroll. Come. Let us get some rest." I nod, and am soon laying on a bedroll, using my satchel as a pillow. Tomorrow, once I am (hopefully) settled in Edoras, I can look inside and see what I have been sent here with.

With that, I fall asleep.


	5. The Marshal's Grief

**YOU SHOULD ALL LOOK UP IMAGES OF LIGHTNING SCARS. THEY ARE REALLY INTERESTING TO LOOK AT, REALLY. JUST SAYING.**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!  
**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

I awoke slowly, someone shaking my shoulder gently. I groan and try to bury myself further into the sheets, until someone took them. I snatch at them, but the hands are too quick and elude me.

"Five more minutes." I grumble, throat scratchy with sleep. I breathed through my mouth usually. Eomer smiles down at me when I finally open my eyes.

"Five more minutes we cannot afford, milady." I grumble curses at him and the tired feeling in my bones as I sit up and stretch, popping my back afterwards.

"I am called Winnie by my friends." I inform him, getting a little tired of being addressed like I was royalty or someone important. Eomer dips his head.

"I mean no offense." I blink. This Middle-Earth place was weird. I shrug.

"None taken, milord, I assure you." I reply. "I was merely- -" Eomer's eyes have gone wide as I reach for my outer shirt and the loose fabric I'm wearing slides down my left shoulder as I twist myself.

"Rowena, you're injured?!" He hisses, not wanting to make a scene just yet as he scurries over. I frown.

"Eomer, what the- -oh." I get a look, as well. There is a pattern like trees in fall, going all the way down my shoulder. I frown. "Must've been the lightning." I mumble. Eomer takes a step back.

"Lightning?" He asks sharply, eyeing me curiously. Now I'd done it. I swallow.

"I suppose I'd better explain." Eomer nods, eyes curious and worried.

"I would have you do so with haste, for my curiousity is piqued." I nod.

"Well, I...I guess I should start by saying I'm not from this world. Until a few days ago, I lived in a land called Scotland, and I was running around a lake when a storm came upon me. It was the worst I've ever run in, but I was determined to finish my daily exercise. Then, I stumbled down the bank of the lake and just as I hit the water, lightning struck my chest. I've heard of these kind of scars marking those that survive." I explain, shrugging. Eomer takes a long moment to digest what I have told him.

"The world is all changed, so much so I am inclined to believe you. Even more so when I can tell you do not lie. This is a strange tale indeed, Rowena." I nod.

"I don't understand how it all happened, either. One moment, I was dead in a lake, then next thing I know, I am before a campfire, the three companions you found me with around it." He nods, exhaling in wonder.

"Truly, legends and queer deeds are afoot in this most dark of times." He mumbles breathlessly. I frown.

"'Most dark of times'?" I ask. Eomer looks quizzically at me for a moment before realization hits and he nods.

"There is war nearly everywhere, against Orc, Goblin, and the other forces of Mordor, Land of Shadows. All things dark and ill grow there, or are bred by some cruel means. Now, the Shadow spreads over Middle-Earth as its peoples are hard-pressed to keep it at bay." I swallow. Great time to drop by. "Even now, increasing numbers of Orcs roam our borders and ever they seek to destroy us. This," he says, pointing to the helmet I had retrieved from the site of the massacre, "signals the worst news of all; our ally and friend of old, Saruman the wizard, has turned against us, falling into Shadow and becoming corrupted." I frown. Of _course_ there are Wizards in this dungeons-and-dragons style fantasy epic. I'd almost forgotten that one guy...Gad-something or other that played a part in all this craziness.

"And we can know for _sure_ that that's what this means? It would not look good if we go around accusing people of betraying us to Mordor when they haven't actually done so." I reply.

"No indeed. But I am _certain_ in this matter. Saruman's signature is that hand. The White Hand of Saruman. It is clear proof, and it amazes me we did not see it before; he did not raise this force overnight." Eomer notes grimly. I heave a sigh.

"For now, let's get breakfast, milord. We can think about it more on the road." I reply after a moment. Eomer runs a stressed hand over his face.

"Your words ring true. And, when we are alone, it would gladden me to address one another by more informal titles, Rowena." I smile.

"Than I shall call you Eomer and you shall call me Winnie." I reply teasingly, spinning and coming out of the tent. He chuckles.

"Certainly, milady." He replies. I move to the supply packs and dig out some kind of bread and dried sausage. I slice the meat and bread, moving to heat both up, meat on bread, on stones around the fire as Eomer checks on his men. Soon, we have to move out, but for now...we can enjoy a meal. By the time he returns, his face is pale and drawn in pain and suppressed emotions as he collapses on a small stump that served as a seat. I pale.

"Milord?" I ask. He doesn't respond. "Eomer?" I try again, lowering my voice desperately. HIs hands shake as they come up to support his face as he bends over his knees.

"My cousin is dead, Rowena." He whispers. I freeze. "He has been dead a few hours now." He adds dejectedly. I sink to the ground, all notion of food and warmth forgotten.

"Eomer...I am so sorry. I... I thought...I thought I- -" How had I failed? I thought...I thought I could...oh, geez! What have I done?!

"The blame lies only on the Orc that gave him those wounds, and I daresay my cousin repaid the Orc in kind." There is a hand on my shoulder and I only dimly register it when, all of a sudden, Eomer is embracing me tightly, and I have no idea what made him do it. I am also aware, keenly, that I am sobbing and tears are streaming down my cheeks.

"Eomer, I was his healer. I was responsible for his health!" I reply, all but screaming, hands curled in his shirt. His arms support me as my legs give out a little in my distress.

"Mayhap he was near dead when we found him, too far gone to heal. The blame is not yours, in whatever case. You performed your duties well, for no training and on the march, Rowena." He soothes in his warm, rich baritones. I sniffle.

"I can't imagine...where you two close?" I ask. He was comforting me, and I needed to reciprocate.

"Like brothers." Eomer replies, voice cracking slightly. We then remain, comforting each other, for several long minutes. "We will take him to Edoras and give him a proper burial." He states, eyes grieving and pained, but voice steady and assured. I nod.

"It's the least he deserves." I reply. Eomer then moves away.

"Your breakfast is ready, Rowena." Is all he says. I move to retrieve the now nearly burnt bread, presenting it to Eomer on a small wooden plate I'd found in the pack. Taking another plate out, I quickly moved my slices to the second plate and blow my fingers to cool them off.

" _Hot_!" I hiss under my breath, shaking them rapidly to try and cool them quicker. Eomer nearly smiles.

"I could have told you that, milady." He muses wryly, a valiant attempt at humor weakened by the sadness in his eyes and demeanor. I smile nonetheless.

"You mock my pain! Never do it again!" I cry dramatically, unable to resist making the reference. Naturally, Eomer thinks I'm serious, and cocks a brow at me. "Nothing, Eomer. Sorry." I apologize meekly, the good mood gone.

"What for?" I shrug.

"It was a reference to something from my world. I shouldn't make jokes you won't understand." He sighs, finishing the meal unhurriedly, loathe to move because that would mean returning to the harsh reality awaiting us. All too soon, however, he stands, swallowing thickly.

"I would very much like to hear an explanation." He replies, offering me a hand up just as I stuff the last of the bread in my mouth and accept it. I laugh.

"Well, it is something like a legend or a great tale in my land. It is about a woman and a man, both poor, but both in a true love. Wesley and Buttercup are their names, and Wesley must leave and seek a fortune in order to marry the woman of his dreams. He choses to set sail, but his ship is attacked by the Dread Pirate Roberts." On and on I went eagerly, happy to provide a distraction from the grim cloud now hovering over all of us at the passing of the prince. Eomer smiles at points and laughs at others, but he always seems only mildly distracted at best, not as much as I wished, and even those near us appear to take an interest. We mount up and ride just as I finish explaining the story. Eomer smiles a little at me.

"I only asked for the meaning behind the words you spoke, Rowena, but thank you. Your land's tales are strange, but enjoyable and diverting if nothing else." I nod.

"Happy to be of service." I reply, smiling genuinely at the Marshal. He nods and we ride off, Eomer unfortunately bearing his cousin's body as I climb into the saddle of the second in command, a man named Eothain. He is a kind man, offering a hand to help me into the saddle, and I recognize him as my silent companion of yesterday's ride. I gratefully accept it.

"But that we had a horse for you, milady. You seem as at home in a saddle as a Rohir." He notes as we move out. I laugh.

"Oh, believe me, this is my first time, and I'm not sure I'd know what to do, left to myself in the saddle."

"Oh, I doubt that, milady." Eothain replied. I shake my head.

"It is true, sir. I have never ridden." He chuckles.

"Well, one would hardly know it at a mere glance, milady." I sigh.

"Please, call me Rowena or Winnie." I reply. "I am unaccustomed to 'milady' and 'Lady Rowena'." I tell him gently. He nods.

"Beg padron, Rowena."

"None needed, milord." I reply he teasingly pokes my side.

"If I am to call you by only your first name, you must do likewise." He retorts cheekily.

I laugh. "Very well, Eothain." I reply, eyeing Eomer as I do so. "We have a deal." Eomer looks away, his head hanging despondently. A lot of grief has been slammed into him, and I don't blame him for his current mood. I feel my shoulders sag a little in the helplessness I felt at not being able to alleviate his woes. With his land, with his King (I'd heard Eomer's summation of this Theoden guy's current not-good mood), and with his cousin.

"He'll come around in time." Eothain assures me, voice soft in my ear so Eomer won't overhear. "He's a strong, robust man and an admirable leader. He'll come through."

"I feel horrid he has to carry the body."

"That was his own choice, Winnie." He replies, and I note that this is the first time that anyone has used my nickname here. Granted, I had not spread it around, but of the two people I had yet told, only one took me up on it. This land was strange, but I was quickly finding a place here. I just hope everyone comes to accept me in turn. Including, and most likely especially, King Theoden. We now approached Edoras. And whatever fate awaited me here.


	6. Facing the Consequences

My jaw hangs loose as we pass under the gates of Edoras. It is truly impressive, if not a little run-down. The beauty still shines through the grime and dirt, however, and I can't help but be impressed by this kingdom's capital.

"That is Meduseld." Eothain tells me, nodding to the large, nearly barn-like hall up the slope and at the very peak of Edoras. The entire town is on an incline, but it still looks magnificent and worthy of the royalty that lives there. Murmurs and whispers follow me as Eothain guides his horse to the large stable and there he stops, dismounting and offering me a hand down. My legs tremble and shake as I hit the ground, but I manage to stay upright. Apparently, riding is not great on legs that had been running for two days with hardly any breaks. Especially for more than, at most, four hours, galloping, no break. Yesterday, we'd only been riding about two hours and then got off at the river, and then it was another three, give or take, to the campsite. Now, we'd started at about 8:15 or so, and now it feels like near or after noon. Probably closer to 1:00 or 2:00, cus my legs are _killing_ me! Eothain steadies me.

"M- -Winnie, are you okay?" I smile. No sense revealing my story just yet.

"I will be in a moment." I reply. I didn't want to lie directly; the most I wanted to do was omit things until they were directly asked for.

"Is something ailing you?" He presses. I smile. Guess he'd directly asked.

"Well...I am actually...not from around here. And I don't mean from Rohan. I mean...from Middle-Earth. I was sent here after slipping down a bank of a lake during a really bad thunderstorm, where I was struck by lightning and woke up here." His eyes widen.

"Truly, Rowena...these are mysterious and strange times." He breaths. "No such event has ever been heard of in these lands." I nod.

"I'd imagine so." I then swallow. "So...when am I going to see Theoden?" I ask. Eothain frowns.

"I can't say exactly. Eomer must first give his report, then the King will decide if he even _wants_ to see you and find out more. From there...none can say." I nod, lips pursed. Fantastic. What is it Eomer had said about Theoden? Something about _not_ liking strangers in his lands?

And that's _precisely_ what I was.

Frick. This was _so_ not gonna end well…

=#=#=#=#=

Turns out, Theoden was at least intrigued enough to want to speak to me before deciding my fate. I swallow, shaking a little as I walk toward Meduseld behind Eothain, who seems nonchalant and at ease. At least, from where I stood, but I didn't know him and thus could not judge his emotions.

"Here we are, Rowena." He says with a false cheer. "Now, all you have to do is be polite, address him as 'sire', 'milord', or 'your majesty', and I think you'll be on the right path, at least. Don't even think about hiding anything from Theoden; he's grown very paranoid, and I am fearful of his reaction." I nod. I just had to keep those things in mind, and...we'd be good.

Right? I gulp.

"Okay." I mumble. He smiles, clapping my shoulder heartily. Thankfully, not the one with lightning scars.

"That's the spirit! Now, good luck!" WIth that, he spun on his heel and went to attend to whatever else he needed to do. I swallow and the man beside the door opens it solemnly. I enter, taking in a sharp breath in wonder at the homey, cosy, cabin-esque atmosphere. There are fur rugs in places on the floor, tables with curious onlookers arranged along the walls, and a roaring fireplace in the center of the main room I now stood in. I swallow and take deep breaths as I come forward, murmurs following me once more. When I reach the dias for the throne, I halt and try to curtsy as best I can. Once again, I swallow, licking dry lips before looking at the elderly man on the throne. He seems aged and bent over near double against his armrest. His hair was thin, grey cobwebs clinging to his head. His eyes were clouded with cataracts and he looked at me without hardly _seeing_ me, I could tell. I then stood there, waiting for the king to ask whatever questions he wished. Eomer stands beside me, still as stone and looking quite grim, hands clasped behind his back. I dimly note that they tremble subtly.

"So." Theoden breaths, voice cracked and wrought with age, but there was still, amazingly, a measure of strength to it, as if his inner youth were fighting to break free and reverse time. "This is the lightning survivor from another land, eh?" He rasps. Suddenly, as if just appearing (though I don't doubt he's been there the entire time) a thin, greasy-haired man pats the king's hand. My legs flinch back a little. There's something... _wrong_ about that guy.

"Indeed, my liege." He replies. "But," He continues, looking now to me with cold, calculating eyes, as though he were a serpent waiting to strike. "how are we to believe this tale? What evidence have you that you have done what Eomer reports?" I swallow back a snarky reply, and roll up my left sleeve, bearing those strange markings I'd noticed my first morning with Eomer's men. All around me gasp in wonder and whispers ring around the room. The man nods. "That is impressive. No one survives lightning, milady." He notes slyly, his words slinking into my ear.

"Except me." I note. The man narrows his eyes.

"How fare your legs, milady? Two days' running must not have treated them well." I look him dead in the eye, refusing to let him intimidate or mock me.

"They grow stronger by the day, but are not quite recovered. Riding set that back a little." I report, shifting from foot to foot and nearly grimacing when tight muscles protest. He snickers as he withdraws to his master's side once more.

"And yet, you stand strong before us."

"By sheer stubbornness, I assure you." I reply. If I were to say that my legs were recovered enough to stand before the king unaided and steadily, I'd probably be sent away, and/or prison, or whatever was done with law-breakers here, without just cause for mercy. Eomer gives me a side glance, as if to say he knew how strong my legs were, and was admiring that I knew not to give an entirely honest report. Although, it is not as far from the truth as I would like. The man beside the king sniffs.

"I am certain. You would dare cross into our borders, when you know the law against visitors in these dark and troubled times?" I frown.

"As I am certain Eomer reported, sir, I came upon my companions two days' run from the edge of the forest. I was allowed to join them, as to not come to danger unaided, if danger we found. When we met Eomer, I had been running two days and was on the verge of collapse. I had no mind of anything but the exhaustion about to consume me."

"And what, pray tell, did you know of Rohan before your arrival?" I cock a brow. Why would he want to know that?

"I knew- -and, sadly, still know- -little. I am eager to learn, if I were allowed, however. This seems a marvelous land." There. Compliment and smile. That's it. Win them over and gain their trust. At least until Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli arrive, hopefully with Merry and Pippin, whoever they are.

"How can you not know?" The man asks waspishly, hinting that he was insulted, and everyone ought to be, as well. I swallow.

"I…" I freeze up suddenly, unsure of what to say. Had Eomer informed this man that I was not a Middle-Earth native? Hadn't he revealed that I knew nothing of this world? Eomer, speaking of, steps forward.

"Enough of this, Grima!" He snaps. "You know this. I told you myself! Enough interrogating her!" I breath a sigh of relief. That was annoying. I had no idea what to say or do. Grima snarls.

"Down, Eomer! The King does not need his lapdog rising to defend this strange woman!" He growls, getting in Eomer's face. Eomer does not back down.

"I grow tired of your treatment of her." He seethes. It's clear the pair hate each other. "We have had a hard day's ride and our guest is tired." He adds. Then, he steps back, clearing his throat as he composes himself. "Uncle, I take full responsibility for the Lady Rowena and am prepared to face the consequences of my judgement."

"Consequences?" The King asks harshly, standing uncertainly on swaying feet. If I were honest, I might start doing that soon. Riding is _not_ nice on already exhausted legs. "You shall suffer the consequence; banishment! For defiance of my orders and the unauthorized loan of our horses to strangers- -" He breaks off, coughing a little as he slumps back into his throne, Grima shushing him as everyone stands there in shock. I was amazed; until a moment ago, all I had seen was a very frail old man, but now...he seemed to cling to a measure of youthful strength.

"My lord!" I call, striding forward as everything kicked back into gear. "Please, don't punish him!" I beg, bowing at the waist to show that I was not meaning any disrespect. "Your Highness, _please_ reconsider. Your nephew acted with honor and chivalry, a rare gift in these times. He was not meaning any disrespect, milord." I add. "If anyone is to be punished, let it be me." I beg.

"Please, rise." Theoden bids, and I do so. He's gazing at his nephew harshly, but doesn't move to do anything else. "You are not to blame for my sister-son's actions, Lady Rowena." He goes on. "Eomer may have acted in what he deemed the best way. However, the law must be upheld. Imprisonment is to be the consequence, and only because of the honor the lady has shown." I pale.

"Please, King, please don't!" My words fall on deaf ears, and I slump, nearly crumpling to the floor in dejection as a stony Eomer is guided away. My throat is too dry and constricted for words.

This was _not_ what I wanted. Not at _all_.


	7. Sojourn at Rohan prt 1

I could only stand there, wanting to leave, but rooted helplessly to the spot, hardly aware of the announcement that I was allowed to stay until my friends arrived to retrieve me. I swallow, feeling hollow.

I barely know Eomer, he barely knows me…

And yet...he'd taken prison for me. He'd been willing to subject himself to the unmerciful laws of the land, just so I would have somewhere to stay. Gently, a hand grips my elbows and guides me away, toward a hallway. I look and see a woman about my age, face stony and unreadable, her hair as light and wavy as Eomer's with similar colored eyes, as well. I blanch. Was this...his sister? Wife? Friend? Her white dress illuminates her fair skin, resting on it naturally, the material seeming made for her. We go down a hall and turn into a bedroom, where the woman then turns to leave.

"Wait!" I cry. She halts, but doesn't turn. "I'm sorry." I tell her honestly. "I didn't mean to get Eomer sent to prison. I am sorry." She still doesn't turn.

"And yet, it happened. Still, I understand. You are not responsible for my uncle's decision, nor my brother's. You are a guest of this hall nonetheless." She says, her voice wavering slightly. "I must take my leave. Please, settle yourself. We will have supper soon." Is all she adds before leaving. I slump onto the edge of the bed.

This had all gone wrong. I hadn't meant to land someone in prison. Especially not a guy who had done a lot for me already. I sigh, and open my satchel to distract myself and maybe find something a little better to wear to dinner. After all, I was dining with royalty and didn't want to put myself in an awkward situation by unknowingly violating some odd ritual I didn't know. This was entirely new territory for me, this world.

I find my glock (no sense being unprepared, just in case something were to happen), a box of ammo, extra underwear and bras (sports and normal, praise God), and a few outfits. I drew them out. They were clearly from this world. I had never seen them before, but they were beautiful. One dress was something that seemed out of a pirate film, with a billowing cotton dress tucked into a bodice/corset thing that looked constricting and hard to wear, attached to a gorgeous forest green skirt that flares only a little. To match, I decide that my current selection of footwear is adequate. I hear a knock on the door and pale. Here we go...

"C-come in." I all but squeak. A young woman hardly looking eighteen comes in, looking as timid as I feel.

"Um...I was sent to ask if you wish a bath before supper." I nod. After days wearing the same thing...running to boot...yeah.

Bath sounds good. I nod. "Sounds delightful. Shall I follow you?" The woman nods, and turns to leave. I grab a different bra and underwear, as well as the dress and bodice/skirt/corset thing I planned to wear to dinner, then follow the girl to a room tucked into a back end of a hallway. She opens the door and there is a large wooden bucket, _Little House On the Prairie_ style, in the center of a room that's steamy and humid. I take a breath and already feel myself relaxing. I spot a small rack and a bench for undressing and redressing, complete with a towel and a tall mirror. The girl takes her leave and in less than a minute, I am in the water, sighing contentedly as the water works its magic. I then see the soaps and scented oils on a shelf set up beside the tub, where I can easily reach them. I run the soap over my body, making sure to get every inch of my skin, getting as clean as I can before ducking under the water and combing my hair with my fingers. That done, I use a more liquid soap, assuming it was Middle-Earth's equivalent to shampoo, scrubbing it into my scalp before ducking back under and rising it out. I then reluctantly exit the tub, grabbing the towel and rubbing myself down before I start shivering. Too late, I drape the towel over the rack and feel shivers as I grab my bra. Soon, I grab a comb that rests on the bench. Once my hair is untangled, I grab at it to get it to look as natural as possible. I pause as I look at myself in the mirror. I grimace as I notice that there's what looks like a very nasty bruise under my skin above my heart, with a pattern imprinted over my skin like a leafless tree, down my stomach, curling around my hips before singling out my left leg. The left arm is covered in the marks, as well. I bite my lip. Wow. that lightning really did a number on me. Finally, I shake myself slip the dress on.

It fits like a second skin, smooth and comfortable, warm, too. I look in the mirror as I lace up my bodice thingy. I tie a little bow and feel a little self-conscious as I look at myself. I was never one for dresses, and this was...wow. I _loved_ it, but it wasn't what I was used to. As I debate whether or not to risk wandering the halls, the woman from before returns.

"Are you ready, Lady Rowena?" She asks. I nod, musing inwardly that in a hall like this, news must travel _fast_ if some servant girl already knows my name. She leads me back to the main room. I swallow and take a breath as I approach the table, pulling out the chair the woman indicated. I sit almost like there were pins and needles. I am beside the woman who took me to the bedroom on one side and some strawberry-haired man on my other.

"You look much better once the travels are washed away, Rowena." The woman muses. "Oh, I am forgetting my manners. I am Eowyn, daughter of Theodwyn." She says. I nod. Was that her mom or her dad? I'm gonna guess mom, but...

"Rowena O'Niell." I reply, smiling. She frowns.

"Such strange names your world has, milady." She replies. I laugh.

"Indeed." She turns a little more to me.

"So it is true? You truly _are_ from an entirely different world?" She asks, sounding curious and eager. I nod.

"Yes. I am from a land called Scotland, and I lived near a lake." I reply. This wasn't too bad. She nods.

"What is it like?" I find an answer ready.

"Here, honestly. The landscape is actually quite similar to this area. Very pretty." I reply. Eowyn smiles.

"Oh, yes. Rohan has quite charming views." The man on my other side suddenly turns to me.

"My Lady." He says to get my attention. I turn to meet his eyes. "Where exactly where you found?" I frown.

"I am not entirely sure. I woke up in a rocky area, and then we had to run across the country as fast as possible. We arrived at Fangorn Forest two days after I joined the running." I explain. Eowyn nods.

"Eomer told Uncle that she and her companions had made it from Tol Brandir to Fangorn in a mere five days. _On foot_." She tells the man. His eyes widen.

"Truly, your friends deserve recognition!" He cheers. "That is no simple feat." I nod.

"My legs still ache and I was only present for two of those days." I reply. The man nods.

"I must apologize for my manners, milady. I am Hama, Doorwarden of Meduseld, and Captain of Theoden's guard." I nod.

"Were you the one that let me into Meduseld?"

"Yes. Theoden normally doesn't take to visitors like that. Odd." I sigh.

"Perhaps he is only courteous because my companions will soon arrive and then we'll be off."

"Where will you go?" Eowyn asks. I frown.

"Wherever they go, really." I reply. "I honestly have no clue where their paths lead, but am willing to follow them." Eowyn nods.

"You formed a bond in only two days, then?" I nod.

"Yes, forged in mutual exhaustion and sweat." I reply playfully. This really was not as terrible as I thought. I'd nearly finished my food now, only just realizing that Lembas can only get me so far before I began craving real food.

"Come now, Lady Rowena." Grima calls as Theoden polishes the last of the food from his plate. "You must entertain us, if we are to house you for a few days." He muses, more of a demand than I am comfortable with. I frown.

"Surely, my lord, there is nothing I can do you wish to see." I reply. "I am a poor novice at violin, and my singing abilities are not worth mention." Grima chuckles, the sounds seriously making me think of a serpent and how it would laugh, were it able.

"Oh, I doubt that." He replies smoothly. I squirm a little, distaste for the man strong in my stomach. "Come, come. There's no shirking from it. I must confess my curiosity in songs from your world." I swallow, and even as I reluctantly stand, I am trying desperately to think of a song I knew all the way though.

That, and one that these people would probably understand. I finally decide on 'Clean' by Taylor Swift. I'd loved the simple acoustics and easy lyrics to the song, often listening to it on repeat when handling a task like dishes and cleaning. I swallow again, praying my voice would remain steady. I close my eyes to block out the audience around me as I mentally go through the opening music. I take one last breath and begin. " _The drought was the very worst...ahh-ah, ahh-ah...when the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst…_ " I don't remember starting to sway, or that I was getting really into the song, but all I knew was that with my eyes closed, singing wasn't so scary and I was actually doing okay. Once I am done, I slowly open my eyes to find that the entire hall is silent and that I was the object of everyone's gaze. I blush scarlet and sink back into my seat. Grima's smile is most unsettling and I have to look away.

"My Lady," Theoden muses, picking the last pieces of chicken meat from a bone, "you judge yourself too harshly. That was a notable performance." I nod, still blushing as everyone slowly went back to their business. I sip at the mead in front of me. I had never really gotten into drinking until now. I decided I quite liked mead as I swigged another gulp. Eowyn smiles genuinely at me.

"Quite enjoyable. Such an interesting tale the song wove." I nod.

"Yes. I think you would enjoy it more if I could have the accompaniment, as well. Singing alone is only half the song, if you ask me." Eowyn chuckles.

"You are fortunate in your choice of instrument, then. I can instruct you, as I have learned to play fairly well myself. Then, perhaps, you can accompany yourself." I nod, smiling. At least, I wouldn't be bored while I wait for Aragorn and the others.


	8. Sojourn at Rohan prt 2

I am shown back to the room by the same girl that had been tending to me all evening.

"What's your name?" I ask as politely as possible. " I feel bad for not asking sooner." She nods.

"I am Halwyn, milady." I smile.

"Pleasure to meet you, Halwyn. I am Rowena, but Winnie will do." I tell her. She smiles.

"Oh, I'm afraid it's only proper to address you by nothing other than your first name or 'milady', Rowena." She replies. I shrug.

"I was only offering a few different names. Sorry." She shakes her head, opening the door.

"Oh, no trouble, milady Rowena. Please, take your ease." And with that, she's gone. I sigh and rearrange my things in my satchel. I then realize that the clothes I'd arrived in were clean and dry, folded neatly and placed on the foot of my borrowed bed. I grimace. I'd forgotten that I'd left them in the bathing room. I hadn't meant to. Laundry would give me something else to do. I groan aloud and collapse on my bed. This had certainly been an interesting day.

For one, I'd gotten a man arrested. For another, I had sang in front of an entire hall of people. What _was_ I thinking? I suppose refusing to comply with the traditions of the land in order to avoid being in the spotlight wouldn't have gone over well, but still...

I do _not_ like being in front of a crowd. I sit up and decide I may as well sleep. I had nothing better to do and I didn't want to risk being caught up in some afterparty where I'd be hounded for an encore. I didn't think I was _that_ good, but people seemed to like it, so...whatever, I guess. I get changed quickly into my undershirt and snuggle under the covers. This bed was supremely comfortable. Much better than the ground I have been sleeping on last couple nights.

=#=#=#=#=

I am awoken by a gentle hand shaking my shoulders. I had only been asleep an hour or two; the moon had now hardly risen and it was dusk when I went to sleep.

"Rowena?" It's Eowyn. I sit up a little.

"Eowyn?" I ask. "What's wrong?" She grabs my wrist.

"I've been to see my brother. He's requested a visit from you." I gulp, flinching away.

"Why?" I whisper. "I'm the reason he's in prison. Why on earth would he want to see me?" She sighs.

"I am not sure. He would not say. Now, let us go. While not strictly forbidden, visiting prisoners is not something often done." I nod, pulling my overshirt over my head and stepping into my pants. These cotton tights had served me well in the fields of Rohan. They already felt natural on me. I then follow Eowyn. She leads me down hallways and a flight of steps. We're now underground, I can tell. Not very far, but still. I shiver. The stones are colder here and I hadn't thought to put my shoes on. Soon enough, I am approaching a cell Eowyn walked towards. I then notice voices. Eomer's...and Grimas.

"How long since Saruman bought you?" Eomer hisses. "What was the promised price? When all the Men are dead, you would take your share of the treasure?" I slink back against the corner wall, holding Eowyn back with my other arm. This would only end badly if we intervene. And besides, we'll be witnesses to whatever Grima does. He won't be able to deny it when two people can confirm the story.

"There are other things I treasure, Eomer." Grima replies smoothly. Eomer scoffs in disgust.

"Did you think it went unnoticed?" He hisses sharply. "Too long have you watched my sister. Too long have you haunted her steps." He growls. Eowyn pales. Apparently, she either hadn't noticed, or didn't understand what the attention ment.

"You see much, Eomer, son of Eomund." Grima taunts, almost as if complimenting him. " _Too_ much. And now, you are locked away and discredited. You can do no further harm." Eomer growls through clenched teeth.

"There are still those loyal to me, Grima."

"They can be...persuaded to change loyalties." I set my jaw and decide to put an end to this before Eomer gets himself screwed over even worse or Grima gets what he wanted. I come around the corner, Eowyn just behind me, to find Eomer pressing against the cell door, face against the bars, eyes blazing with hatred. Grima was slinking back cockily, nasty grin on his face that dropped when we arrived.

"Oh!" I gasp, pretending to be surprised. "Are we- -is this a bad time?" I ask innocently. Beside me, Eowyn stands there, stony and silent, trying to appear as though she hadn't heard the conversation. Grima then bows a little in respect, his eyes lingering on Eowyn just a second too long. I grimace. Seriously?! Now he's just rubbing it in. Eowyn clears her throat. Grima shakes himself.

"No, not at all. I was just leaving." He replies in a weak attempt to play what we'd heard off. I nod.

"Scoot along then." I prompt, shooing him away with my hands. He looks offended, but does indeed go away. I sigh. "Man, _how_ did he ever get hired as an advisor to the king?! He _sucks_!" The pair then look at me, bewildered.

"What does he suck?" Eomer finally asked. I nearly guffaw, but manage to hold it together.

"He...in my world, that means he is a horrid person. Not at all pleasant, in any sense of the word."

"That certainly puts him accurately into words." Eomer growls, eyes blazing with a cold fury. Eowyn nods in agreement.

"Indeed, brother. Now, I shall depart." She curtsies and is gone before I can reply or even react. I am then left alone with Eomer. I swallow. What would he say? How would he react? Why would he want to talk to me at all?

"Hey." I start awkwardly. He nods.

"Hello." I laugh.

"Sooo...what do you want to talk about?" He sighs.

"I suppose I was just lonely. I know the people of Edoras very well, and so you are the only thing that might truly entertain me in this cell." I nod. Makes sense. This visit was not because of spite or anger or...whatever else I feared it was. It was just...a man not wanting to be alone. That's okay. I don't mind. _At all_.

"Don't like being alone, then?" I ask cheekily. He grins back at me and we chuckle.

"No, I think not. I am not...not used to being confined anywhere." I bite my lip and look down.

"Eomer, I...I honestly have no idea why I'm here. I am the reason you are confined here, doomed to sit in the cell until Eowyn and I figure something out or...or something." I sigh. What, in all honesty, could anyone do to get Eomer out? There was no changing Theoden's mind. I caught his stubborn streak nearly right off the bat. So, our hope is now kinda with Aragorn, if Aragorn can convince Theoden that...I dunno. I don't know what we need to convince Theoden of to get Eomer out of jail, but let's hope Aragorn can convince Theoden of whatever it is. Eomer sighs.

"No, Rowena. I made this bed for myself when I took you on Firefoot and lent the horses to your companions. This was my choice and I do not regret it." I frown.

"But...why didn't you just let me go with Strider and the others? They have horses, so I would have been fine." Eomer frowns.

"They still had need of haste. My men and I were less inclined to rush." I scoff.

"You told us your men 'chafe at being away' or something like that when we met you." He shakes his head.

"I did not...I…" I smile.

"Eomer, I was just curious. I'm extremely grateful you let me come with you. You're right; my companions' time was running short to find their friends."

"'Their' friends, Rowena?" He repeats quizzically. I nod.

"I've never met the two Hobbits they were trying to rescue. I just joined the run, and hoped that we wouldn't come upon their dead bodies." Eomer frowns.

"I suppose we both have done things that do not appear to make sense." I laugh.

"I guess." Eomer sighs.

"It is now late, Rowena. Perhaps we could continue this conversation tomorrow morning?" I nod, suddenly yawning into my hand.

"That sounds good. I'm sorry, Eomer, but…" I yawn again. "Suddenly, I can't keep my eyes open." He nods.

"I am weary, too. Goodnight, Rowena."

"Goodnight, Eomer." I reply, and take my leave, making my way slowly back into the main area, eventually remembering the way by a little trial and error.

My eyes closed and I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.


	9. Breakfast in the Dungeons

The next morning, I was greeted by the sun's rays, gently peeking into my bedroom. I groan and burrow into the covers to escape the cursed light. The building exhaustion I had accumulated through these hectic past few days had finally slammed me, apparently. It was (what felt like) a long time before I seemed able to heave myself out of the bed. I shiver slightly in the late winter-early spring air and pull my overshirt on, and soon, I was dressed and moving out into Meduseld. There were hardly any people up and about now. I decide that now might be the best time to go talk to Eomer, when hardly anyone was awake.

I walk around a little until I find a kitchen, and I grab a pair of apples, one for me, and one for Eomer. I didn't know if he had been fed last night, so I wanted to make sure he had a little something to hold him over til his next meal. I sigh. Eomer was interesting, to say the least. He'd brought me to Meduseld and had risked banishment just to see to it I had a roof over my head and food in my stomach until my companions arrive.

He was a honorable man and I valued his friendship, if we could call it friendship. We'd not spoken too much. In fact, last night was one of our longer conversations to date. I felt horrible that he's now imprisoned because he noticed my collapse and decided to have pity on me. I pick my way back to the cells, more confident now than last time. I sigh as I approach, feeling familiar guilt twist in my stomach. I tap the door.

"Eomer?" I call softly. He may be asleep. Why did I even come again? Ergh, my brain is stupid!

"I am awake." Is his reply. There is a small door about halfway up the door, with a shelf attached so the food could be given to the prisoner within. I put the apple there and close the door.

"Brought you an apple. Figured you were sent to bed without supper." I muse cheekily. He comes and retrieves it, and I hear him biting into it, moaning softly in contentment as he seats himself on the bed again.

"My thanks, Rowena." He calls. I chuckle.

"No need. Just helping a friend." I reply, biting into my own apple and sitting on the ground. We could hear each other fairly well. There was no real need for sight.

"You consider us friends?" He asks. I nearly choke on my apple. Of course he wouldn't. Of course I would be nothing more than the woman he'd foolishly rescued, landing him in prison. "That is well. I would like to think we are friends, as well." He continues. I breath out in relief, unsure of when I held it in. Why was it so important to me that I had a friendship with Eomer? "Rowena?" I swallow.

"Yes, Eomer. I...I like to think we're friends, as well. Maybe not as some might think of friends, but...I like to think we are friends nonetheless." I take another bite of apple, not quite trusting my mouth anymore. What did all that mean? Eomer sighs.

"Our story is young yet, Rowena, and I should like to think it is not a short one." I nod.

"I think so, too. Assuming Strider does not wish to rush off to who-knows-where again." Eomer frowns.

"He is your group's leader?" I nod.

"Yes."

"And yet, you do not know his plans?" He asks. I sigh.

"No, I don't. All we thought about was how far we could get before we had to halt to get food, water, rest, or confidence in the path." Eomer comes forward. I stand, as well.

"And yet, you stayed beside them, knowing not the route they took nor where the future would lead?" I shrug.

"Didn't really have a choice. It was either that, or be left to fend for myself in the fields. I am hopeless at hunting- -too clumsy- -and I didn't find any food in my satchel. I had to rely on my companions to sustain myself, and so I became dependent on them. They were kind, but really rushed." I explain. He nods.

"Would you call them friends?" I nod.

"In a similar way to you and I, I think. We haven't known each other long, but I still call you one." He hums in consideration, then sighs.

"I'd imagine breakfast is being prepared, if not served. You may wish to go." I shake my head, smiling.

"Meh. I had an apple. I'll be okay for a little while." And so we chatted and talked for another period. I find Eomer very easy to talk to, and he always seemed honestly interested in my stories, be they about my siblings (twins, brother and sister, Willow and Jerimiah (only the girls got tree names, apparently)). Time became meaningless underground, and so I don't know how long we talked. Apparently, not too long, because Eowyn arrives with a platter for Eomer just as I finish telling Eomer about Loch Ness and the mysteries surrounding it. She smiles genuinely at us as she comes over.

"I see you are getting familiar with Meduseld, Lady Rowena." She says in greeting, placing her brother's breakfast on the shelf. He pushes it to me, however, with a wry grin.

"I ate an apple. I am satisfied for a while." He says. I chuckle at his use of my words, formalized though they were. "The lady, I daresay, needs all the sustenance she can receive, if she is to fully recover." I roll my eyes.

"I am fine, Eomer. You must eat, as well."

"Idle bodies need less food." He grumbles in reply. I sigh.

"If you insist. Would you like some, Eowyn?" I ask. She shakes her head.  
"I have only just come from breakfast. I am not hungry." I nod and begin eating, though a little reluctantly.

"Eowyn tells me you can sing." Eomer notes at length. I choke on a chunk of bread for a moment.

"I assure you, Eomer, your sister exaggerates. I can hardly- -"

"Oh, you sell yourself short, Rowena. Your voice was not as bad as you claim." I flush at the prospect of singing for Eomer alone, even though Eowyn was present, as well. I don't know what was so different; if anything, I should be happy that there are far fewer people now than last night. But, for some reason, I shy away from the notion.

"Really, I...I'd rather not." I mumble, but under the siblings' combined eager expressions, I reluctantly sighed and acquiesced, deciding against singing 'Clean' again and going with 'I'll Be Good' by Jaymes Young instead. As I sing, I come to realize that this kinda thing wasn't as horrid as I initially thought, at least where there were not as many people around, and I could just sing the way I normally would, not amping it up for the king and his court.

Since coming to Middle-Earth, I have found myself not exactly missing home, but not fully adjusted yet. Initially, I awoke to find myself in a new place with strange new people over me and I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little scared. However, once I'd adjusted a bit and got over the initial shock and horror that I was dead to all I knew in my world, I found that this place, this new world, was not so bad.

I daresay I've come to love- -or at least _like_ \- -it here.


	10. Horseback Riding Lessons and Newcomers

**SUP! SO. NOW THAT I AM ON SPRING BREAK, I PLAN ON WRITING MORE STEADILY. I APOLOGIZE FOR THE KINDA ROCKY UPDATE SCHEDULE. ANYWAY, PLEASE ENJOY!**

 **AND HUGE THANKS TO _EVERY_ REVIEWER SO FAR! YOU GUYS MAKE MY DAY! **

**GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

The silence drew on after my song concluded, and I swallowed as it turned awkward. Had I done something wrong? If so, what?

"...It's just one of the songs I know all the way through, guys. No big deal. It doesn't mean that that's how I feel." I explain rapidly, wanting to get them speaking again.

"...Such strange songs you know, milady." Eomer finally says thickly. It's clear the song affected both siblings, but I didn't know how or why. "Strange tales they weave." He adds under his breath. I swallow.

"Sorry. I just...know them. I...I…"

"It's alright, Rowena." Eowyn assures me, shaking herself out of her stupor. "We just...are unused to your world's songs. They seem so serious." I smile.

"Not all of them, really." The pair look at me quizzically. "The two I've sung so far are easy to remember since the instrumental parts are not complicated and the lyrics aren't hard to memorize." I clear my throat. "Some of the songs are more upbeat and lively." The siblings look at me expectantly. I laugh. "Alright then." I take a second to think of what song before deciding on 'Try Everything' by Shakira. It didn't mention anything from my world that those in Middle-Earth would not know about. " _I messed up tonight. I lost another fight. Lost to myself, but I'll just start again._ " I begin, swaying my body to the beat while remaining seated. Eomer and Eowyn laugh as I continue with the song. Once I was done, they seem in much better spirits.

"That was the most lively song I have heard, at least in a long time." Eowyn says and chuckles. For the moment, we're just three people chatting, forgetting the door between us and Eomer, alone but not lonely. Not anymore.

"Thank you." I reply. "There is a wide range of songs in my world, as with this one, I would assume." They nod.

"Somewhat, yes, I suppose. We haven't sang much these days, however." Eomer notes sadly. I swallow, feeling the sudden shift in mood as clearly as if it were a breeze, blowing away any cheer I'd brought by my song. I bite my lip.

Thankfully, someone approaching saved the situation entirely. I turn and see Eothain. I stand, grinning and wave a greeting.

"Hey, Eothain!" I say happily. He smiles back.

"Hello, Winnie!" He replies, and accepts my hug. "You mind if I chat with the captain for a moment? There are some matters I need to discuss with him." I nod.

"Meet you in the main hall when you're done?" I ask. He nods.

"Indeed. I meant to ask you something when my business with the Marshall was concluded." I nod and practically skip to the main hall alongside a more sedate Eowyn. I then force myself to be a little more somber for her sake.

"I must prepare Theodred for his funeral." She murmurs quietly. I nod, grimacing.

"Oh, geez. That...that's awful. I'm sorry it came to you." I reply, trying to console her. She sighs.

"Yes. I understand you tried to help him?" It's posed as an innocent question, but I am unsure if that is reality as I sag in guilt and shame.

"Yes." I eventually reply, hardly audible. "I...I…"

"Did what you could, even without training." She interjects evenly, though I can hear the pain in her voice. "I am thankful you eased his passing, if nothing else." I nod.

"Thanks. My only regret is not curing him entirely." I reply, swallowing thickly. Theodred had not been mentioned since I had arrived, and it the sudden resurgence of memories, I was threatened by tears welling in my eyes. I blink them back. I had failed Theodred; I had no right to grieve his loss. I shake myself. "Perhaps, my lady, we could begin violin lessons when you are...indisposed?" She nods.

"Perhaps, although we have to cede to Eothain; he begged your attention first." I nod.

"Of course." With that, we parted ways, and I couldn't help but pat her shoulder reassuringly, though I doubt it helped at all. I then sit at a table and try to recall what I can about this series; there was something important that had to be destroyed and there were a group of people to help get it done. I remember that Legolas, Gimli, Aragorn, and the other wizard guy, Ganard- -or something like that- - were a part of that group. It was something really small that had to tossed into a volcano, I recall. It nearly didn't work, but in the end, it all somehow worked out. There were several battles, intense, amazing battles, and...that's about it. There was a lot going on here. A lot I didn't remember.

A hand on my shoulder startled me out of my reveries. It was Eothain. "Oh, geez, dude!" I squeak. "A little warning next time, please! That startled me!" He laughs.

"I did call your name when I approached, Winnie." I sigh.

"Sorry. I was just a bit...lost in thought, I guess. What was it you wanted to talk about?" I ask politely. He shifts on his feet a bit.

"Well...I was wondering if I could test my theory about your riding skills. Would milady be interested?" I laugh.

"Oh, geez. Um...yeah, I guess." I shrug. "Why not?" He chuckles.

"Why not, indeed?" I then hesitate to take his arm.

"How long are we gonna be gone?" I ask. "I wanted to get some violin lessons from Eowyn tonight, as well." Eothain frowns.

"Not too long, I suppose, depending on how you take to the saddle." I nod.

"So, I should be able to get back in time for a lesson or two before supper.?"

"Indeed. Now, shall we go?" I then think of another thing.

"Isn't this taking time away from your duties? I'd hate to be a hinderance and land someone else in trouble." He shrugs, waving away my concerns.

"Nay, Winnie. With Eomer...incapacitated, it leaves us in his Eored to idle and visit with Edoras' populace." I nod.

"I am sorry for that. I didn't- -"

"You did nothing wrong, milady. If anyone is to blame, it is Grima. He has slowly corrupted the king until our borders are to be guarded at all costs, when we should accept travelers and offer them refuge if they need it, after evaluation, of course." He interrupts. "I wish this thing to be put from your mind, Winnie. Now, let us discover the Rohirrim in you!" He cheers, taking my hand eagerly and all but running out of Meduseld and down to the stables. He saddles two horses swiftly, leading them out to where he's left me, at the doorway. He nods toward the one in his left hand, a palomino, I think. "This is Herund, my steed." He then nods toward the other one, a chesnut bay. "And this is Grimbold. He is at his prime and well-trained. He will not let you fall nor will he bolt." I nod, suddenly a little nervous; being on a led horse at a fair was one thing. Being the master of the horse was another. However, when Eothain gave me the bay's reins, I was happy to see that Grimbold was steady under my hand, no sign of rebellion. "We often use him for first-timers." Eothain notes, arriving at an apparent landing designed for a horse's departure. He steps into a stirrup. I glance at his body's posture and try to mimic it. "That's it!" He praises. "Now, grab the horn tightly and swing your leg up and over." He says as he mounts. I take a breath and heave myself up and over. My legs protest slightly as they slide over the horse's body, but they cease after a moment. "You want to be gentle at first, gently nudging your foot into Grimbold's sides. You want to clock your tongue. Here, mimic me." He says, performing a quick jab of his feet and a trio of fast clicks with his tongue. Herund obeys. I nod.

"Coming!" I call when Eothain looks back. I perform a jab, clicking my tongue. Whether or not Grimbold was just humoring me or wanted to walk, I don't know, but he moved forward easily. Eothain beams.

"You _are_ a Rider of Rohan under that mysterious exterior, Winnie!" He calls happily. I laugh.

"Eothain, I am from Scotland! I had hardly heard of Rohan until my companions told me that's where I was." I reply. He frowns a little.

"'Hardly heard', Winnie?" I blanch. Whoops.

"Didn't hear, more like." I amend. For some reason, it didn't seem like the right time and place to tell these people that they were characters in a book series and movie trilogy (I had only seen them once, when I was young; I hardly remember them). He nods.

"Well, in any case, let's try a brisk trot." He muses. I lead Grimbold out of Edoras, but it seems the horse already knows how; he's a very patient, intelligent animal. I take a breath.

"Alright." I tell him. Eothain jabs and clicks again, and I follow. This really isn't too bad, I muse, and find I am quite enjoying riding a horse. Soon, we're galloping over the fields before Edoras, laughing and enjoying ourselves immensely. Eothain leads us around a large field and up a hill on a narrowing track through a copse of trees. He then halts on the other side, letting Herund walk at his leisure, and I followed suite. We're both laughing breathlessly.

"Told you you were a Rider." He teases. I frown playfully.

"I find horses dangerous at both ends and crafty in the middle. Why would I want something with a mind of its own bobbing about between my legs?" I reply. He cocks a brow. I burst out laughing again. "It's nothing. Just a kind of joke in my world. It's a quote from...a, uh, kind of play." I explain. "It's about a man who looks for clues and evidence at crime scenes and things like that, solving crimes and helping a land called England catch its greatest criminals." I explain, laughing at his expression. "Come on. We rode for a while, and I think we should be getting...Eothain?" I ask as he looks with a darkening expression toward something behind me. I wheel Grimbold around and spot three figures, all on horseback (I think), and then suddenly remember something; there was about to be some big thing happening in Meduseld. I had to get back. "Come on!" I call over my shoulder, jabbing Grimbold hard in the heels.

Something told me I wouldn't want to miss whatever was about to happen.


	11. The Fellowship Comes to Rohan

**AND HERE WE ARE! GANDALF AND THE OTHERS ARRIVE AT EDORAS! YAY! HOPE YOU LIKE IT!**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

Arriving swiftly at Edoras' entrance, we get a closer view of the riders and find that one of the horses bears two people.

"Who by Bema is that?" Eothain asks, hand shielding his eyes from the sun. I do so, as well, and it takes a moment to realize who it is.

"If it is who I think it is…" I reply, breathless with excitement as I urge the horse forward. I then notice that there among my friends is a newcomer, wearing a tattered grey travelling cloak that hinted at something more resplendent and beautiful beneath when the wind caught it right. My friends seemed in decent spirits, so I am left to wonder if the new guy was Merry or Pippin and where the other was, if that were the case. "Hey, strangers!" I greet, laughing. They take a second to process the sight of me so confident on a horse and (probably) so energetic. I hadn't exactly been myself after running for days on end.

"Hail, Rowena!" Legolas calls back, and I fall in beside them as Eothain awaits us at the gate.

"How are you?" I ask.

"How are _you_?" Gimli shoots back promptly from behind Legolas. I smile.

"I am well, all things considered. Can't really complain." I tell them, tucking stray strands of hair behind my ear. "What about you all?" I ask again. The old man spurs his horse a little faster.

"Come!" He says in an authoritative manner, like a grandfather admonishing wayward grandchildren when they wandered from his side. "There will be time for proper reunion once we are within Meduseld." I frown.

"Good luck." I tell them. "The borders here are tight; I barely got in." I explain, leaving out the part about Eomer being in jail. The new man takes a look at me and then goes back to leading his horse to the stables. Once we're all there and dismounted, Gimli is the first to hug me.

"It is good to see your face again, lassie!" He tells me. I frown.

"What happened since I left?" I ask, but the man spurs us hastily up the stairs to Meduseld, repeating the words about reuniting once whatever has him in a hurry has ended. I follow eagerly, hugging Aragorn and nearly hugging Legolas, but then decide to awkwardly try to mimic his gesture of putting his right arm up to his chest and slowly drawing it back out to me as we walk hurriedly to the gate. I wave at Hama.

"Hey, Hama!" I greet. He nods.

"Morning to you, milady. Saw yeh leave with Eothain, but you were in such a rush, I could narry say a word afore you were gone." He says, eyes twinkling. I chuckle nervously.

"He was excited." I tell him. He then turns to the visitors and his eyes held a sudden coolness and severity.

"Who are you that come heedless over the plain thus strangely clad, riding horses like to our own horses?" He asks, "Long have we kept guard here, and we have watched you from afar. Never have we seen other riders so strange, nor any horse more proud than they that bore you." He then turns to the elderly man. "Yours, sir, was one of the Mearas, unless our eyes are cheated by some spell." I roll my eyes.

"Hama, they're with me." I tell him.

"That does not mean they can be granted access so freely, Lady Rowena." I sigh, bowing to the customs of the land once more. He continues. "Are you not a wizard, some spy of Saruman, or phantoms of his craft? Speak now and be swift!" He barks.

"Hama, please. I can vouch for them." I tell him, but his hand merely goes up to silence me. I huff, but stand aside, crossing my arms. Aragorn steps forward.

"We are no phantoms, nor do your eyes cheat you. For indeed these are your own horses that we ride, as you knew ere we asked, I guess. I gave my word we would return them safe and have now done so. Returned to the stable are Hasufel and Arod that Eomer, the Third Marshal of the Mark, lent to us only two days ago when he agreed to bring the Lady Rowena to Edoras to recover from a grievous trial." he then frowns, "I know Eomer has returned, for Rowena is present and well. Has he not told your king that we were returning for our companion?" I flinch and take a step back. He had, but if the words were heeded, it was still unknown. I suppose I hadn't checked up on that. Frick. Hama and I exchanged a troubled glance; no one liked the turn of events that landed the Third Marshal in prison.

"Of Eomer I have naught to say." Hama said after a second. I swallow. "If what you tell me is truth, then doubtless Theoden will have heard of it. Maybe your coming was not wholly unlooked for. However, two nights past, in fact the same night Rowena graced Meduseld as I recall, Grima Wormtongue came to us and ordered that no stranger should pass these gates." The name of the advisor seemed to anger the old man, for he looked quite angry, eyes flashing as he took in this information.

"Wormtongue?" he repeated harshly. "Say no more! My errand is not to Wormtongue, but to the Lord of the Mark himself!" I scoff.

"You can hardly tell them apart, they sit so close now." I grumble. The old man's eyes flash again.

"It may be I am nigh out of time." He mumbles angrily, as if to admonish himself. He then looks up again, eyes calmer and more rational. "I am in haste. Will you not go or send word that we have arrived?" He asks gently. Hama considers this.

"I will go." He says eventually. "But what names shall I report? I will speak of your friendship with the Lady Rowena, but I desire names to match. Old and weary you seem now, and yet you are fell and grim beneath, I deem." The man in the tattered cloak nods.

"Well do you see and deem." He praises, but it's still clear he's in a hurry, "For I am Gandalf. I have returned." I blink. That's the name of the good wizard in this story. Okay. Cool. "And I bring back a horse; Shadowfax the Great, whom no other hand may tame. And beside me is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Kings, and it is to Mundburg that he goes. Here also are Gimli, son Gloin and Legolas Thranduilion, our comrades. Go now and give your report that we wish to have speech with Theoden, if he permits us into his hall." Hama nods, his eyes flickering in recognition of Aragorn's name.

"Strange names you bear. I will report them as bidden and bring you my king's answer. But do not hope too much; it was by chance that Rowena was permitted leave to stay." _That, and someone else's imprisonment._ I add internally. With that, Hama is gone and I am left in the company of those I were probably most familiar with in Middle-Earth, save Gandalf.


	12. Obtaining Entrance to Meduseld

**WOULD YOU ALL KILL ME IF I WERE TO START LENGTHENING THE CHAPTERS? I AM GETTING A LITTLE RESTLESS AT THE BOUNDARIES I'VE SET PER CHAPTER FOR MYSELF. IT WOULD ALSO HELP KEEP THE STORY MOVING LONG, SO...LET ME KNOW, PLEASE.**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

There is a long silence and I just now realize that the man's eyes have been on me for a while. I cock a brow.

"...Can I help you?" I ask timidly, a little unnerved as his searching eyes scanned me for several long minutes, or so it seemed, before he finally spoke.

"Perhaps." He notes. "There is something...I can't place about you, my dear." I nod.

"That's probably because I haven't been in Middle-Earth more than...three days at this point. I come from a land called Scotland." I tell him easily. He frowns.

"So that is it. You are foreign." He replies, nodding. "Most intriguing." I extend my hand.

"Pleasure to meet you, Gandalf." I tell him. "Name's Rowena O'Neil." He seems at a loss for a moment as to what to do before slowly shaking my hand. "Sorry. That's a greeting in my land." I tell him as our hands return to our sides. He nods.

"So it is here, but chiefly used between men when greeting each other." He replies. "Hardly is it seen between women." I shrug.

"Not where I am from." He nods.

"So I see. Pleasure to meet you. I knew only what my companions told me of you before our meeting." He replies politely, smiling genuinely.

"And I didn't know you at all. I'd say we're good, and you can call me 'Rowena' or 'Winnie', really. All of you." They nod politely. "I am not used to being addressed like royalty or someone of nobility. That's all." We then fall into silence as we wait for Hama to return. I turn to Aragorn, tiring of silence. "Back to my questions as we came up Edoras, Aragorn...what happened since I left?" He frowns in thought as he tries to sum it up.

"We rode to Fangorn and the Orc pyre and found hardly any sign of the Halflings. We then discovered that they had entered the woods, and from there we tried to follow their steps. And that is how Gandalf found us, weary and wary on the trail of our friends." I nod.

"Did you ever find them?" I ask. Gimli sighs.

"Nay, milady. We did not." He tells me. I frown, growing worried.

"Are they…"

"Alive, yes." Gandalf replies before anyone else can. "That much I know. That, and that they are in good hands and safe. As safe as they can be in these uncertain times, at least." I nod, relieved. I'd hate to think I doomed those two souls because I couldn't keep up. "Let your heart be at ease on that score, my dear. I must say, you show large concern for someone you have never met." I flush a little in embarrassment.

"We-well...I...I've heard a little about them during our longer respites from running. They seem like good, likeable people. I don't want to see them come to harm." I reply timidly. Gandalf smiles.

"I meant no offense and apologize of any taken, Rowena. I was merely trying to determine something of your character. Not all can be read at a glance." I swallow.

"Okay." I then sigh. "This world is very strange and peculiar to me with it's rituals and customs. I am a literal foreigner here. Sorry." I confess, my fingers intertwining and fiddling nervously. Gandalf smiles and claps my shoulder gently.

"That's nothing to be shamed at, nor apologize for, Rowena. You cannot be expected to fully adjust to a new life in a mere two days." I nod, feeling heartened and warm, as if it really were my grandfather tell me these things, though he'd have to come back from death to do so. I smile at Gandalf nonetheless.

"Thanks." Before Gandalf can reply, Hama has returned. I wave in greeting and he tips his head in return.

"Follow me." He orders. "Theoden gives you leave to enter, but any weapons you have, be it only a staff, are to stay out here. We doorwardens shall keep them." I nod.

"Lucky for me, I don't have a weapon." _on me_. I add internally, deciding to keep that to myself. If I were asked for a demonstration of my glock in Meduseld, I fear all in the room would go deaf. That, and I did not feel like having my satchel potentially taken away. It was something I owned, though it was as foreign to me as Middle-Earth. I had bonded with it in a way, and liked having it around.

Legolas is the first to step forward, bringing forth a gorgeous bow and a glinting knife as pretty as the bow slowly, as if it physically pained him to part with it. "Keep these well, for they come from the Golden Wood and the Lady of Lothlorien gave them to me." He says sternly and I can't help but wonder at what that means. Awestruck, Hama took them as if he were reluctant to touch them, and he seemed afraid of the bow and knife.

"No man shall touch them." He breaths, setting them gently by his side against the wall. Aragorn frowns, deliberating with his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"It is not my will to put aside my sword or deliver Anduril to the hand of any other man." I roll my eyes. I understood being a little protective of my things (see: musings on satchel, featured above), but this was a little ridiculous. I somehow knew better than to comment on it, however. I was waiting to enter, having been given leave by Theoden to come and go as I will. My friends had yet to earn that right and I had no desire to jeopardize either my friends' or my own position of favor (however small) with Theoden.

"It is the will Theoden." Hama replies coolly. Clearly, he was used to Theoden's word being the law and having none challenge it. Aragorn frowns.

"It is not clear to me that the will of Theoden, even though he be Lord of the Mark, means more than Aragorn's, son of Arathorn and heir of Gondor." I blink. Wait...was Aragorn...whoa...he was a prince or something?! Huh?! Wonder flashes for the barest of moments in Hama's eyes at Aragorn's title, but then the words before them come to his mind and he strides angrily forward, sword suddenly in hand, the point hovering over Aragorn's chest.

"This is the house of Theoden, not of Aragorn, even if he were king of Gondor." He growls. I come between the men on impulse.

"Hama, please! Aragorn, stop and think!" I beg, not knowing what I was saying, really, nor where this was coming from. I turn to Aragorn. "You told Eomer you were friends to Rohan and Theoden. Honor those words now. Just set Andurl aside _for the moment_. Once we're done talking to Theoden, you'll probably be able retrieve it."

"Rowena speaks wisdom." Gandalf adds when my words fail to elicit a response from the men beyond Hama slamming his sword hotly into its sheath. "You would do well to heed her." Aragorn frowns in hesitation, however, his anger still hot and not easily quelled. "Needless is Theoden's request but it is useless to refuse. In any case, a king will have his own way in his hall." Aragorn then reluctantly hands Anduril over to Hama, who has the decency to treat the blade with care, mumbling about old legends and strange days. Gimli then surrenders his weapon and we are- -

"Your staff." Hama says reluctantly. Gandalf frowns.

"I am old. If I cannot lean on my stick as I walk, then I shall sit out here until Theoden hobbles out to meet me." Gandalf replies, clutching his stick almost possessively. "Would you really part an old man from his walking stick?" He continues, and Hama sighs, as if he knows he'll probably regret what he's about to do, but will do it anyway.

"I believe you are friends and folk worthy of honor, who have no evil purpose here. You may go in."

And so we do. My company share a knowing glance and Gandalf wisely leans both a little on Legolas and a little on the staff, as if he truly could not walk without them. I nearly smirk and give the whole thing away as we pass through the doors. At the throne, Theoden sits, with Grima stuck to his side like a leech, as always. I come closer and find- -dear _god_ , what has Grima _done_ to Theoden?! He looks ready to keel over and die at any moment! What in the name of- -Grima, so help me, I will _kill_ you! I _know_ that snake has something to do with this!


	13. The Return of Theoden King

**HERE IS THE HEALING OF THEODEN! YAY! I LOVE THIS SCENE, BOOKS AND MOVIE, AND HOPE I DO THIS JUSTICE HERE, AND THAT YOU ALL LIKE IT, AS WELL.**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

We continue to approach the throne. I swallow. How in the world could Theoden have gotten _this_ bad overnight?! He was not not like _this_ at dinner just last night! Regardless, I walk resolutely behind the group of newcomers, watching as Grima whispers in Theoden's ear. Theoden nods, and I have to ball my hands into fists to keep from shouting out to get Theoden's attention away from that idiot.

"The courtesy of your halls is somewhat lessened of late, Theoden King." Gandalf notes sourly.

"That's an understatement." I mumble under my breath. No one hears me, but I feel better letting some of my bitterness out. It was because of a) my condition, b) Eomer's kindness and chivalry (not a bad thing) and c) the law of the land that my friend was in jail for nothing more than being a gentleman. Grima tells the King something else, and Theoden nods again. I gulp. This wouldn't end well, probably.

"Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?" Theoden asks slowly, voice lilting and cracked with age, without that glimmer of youth it had yesterday evening. Grima turns to Theoden with a reverent, approving gaze.

"A just question, my liege." Grima tells him.

If speaking out would not bring further harm to Eomer (who took responsibility for my actions), I might have made a sarcastic, witty retort calling out Grima's BS. Grima then turns to Gandalf, a queer, smug look in his eyes. "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear." He goes on, louder, his sickly, serpentine voice filling the hall. I then notice a group of men approaching, menacing and hard-eyed. Clearly, Grima's thugs. "Lathspell, I name him." Grima cries, striding forward as if he had not a care in the world. He even dares to come face-to-face with Gandalf, a mere feet away from the man. "Ill news is an ill guest, as they say." Grima taunts, smirking. Gandalf grimaces in disgust.

"Be silent!" He barks savagely. "Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth!" He spits, glaring at the cowardly, greasy man before him. "I have not passed through fire and death to brandy crooked words with a witless worm." I burst out laughing at that. No one else had dared speak do bluntly and brashly to the Lord of Rohan's close advisor (though many doubtless wanted to). So, to hear it said aloud and in such a tone...man, did it kill me. Especially Grima's stricken, shocked face. He looks for all the world like someone has slapped him. Gandalf then threatens Wormtongue with his white staff, and Grima blanches, backing away hastily.

"The staff!" He hisses, as if it were something that might attack him. "I _told_ you to take the Wizard's staff!" He cries, indignant that his orders were not carried out as we continue walking forward. Then, the thugs come and encircle us. Legolas, Aragorn, and Gimli engage, but I slip away. I know little of hand-to-hand combat and would only get in the way. I am free to watch Gandalf, who walks forward as if nothing is wrong.

"Theoden, son of Thengel!" Gandalf cries, authority ringing in his voice, his hand raised as if in greeting. Theoden looks at Gandalf, looking almost surprised the wizard was talking to him in such a manner. "Too long have you sat in the Shadows." He says, a little gentler, but with no less command. Theoden now shies away from Gandalf's gaze fearfully. Distantly, I hear Gimli growling at someone to stay still, but I hardly pay attention. Gandalf was far more interesting. "Hearken to me!" Gandalf barks, and Theoden reluctantly does, like a scolded child when their parents use a similar tone of voice. Gandalf raises a hand, frowning in concentration. "I release you from this spell." He intones slowly, powerfully, and I swear, a weird warm, comforting breeze sweeps over to Theoden, who cringes for a split second before starting to laugh. I swallow. That laugh...is evil. No way that's Theoden's normal laugh. No...this...this was something- -or some _one_ \- -else entirely, some evil something making his voice change like this. I shiver, the feeling of the breeze gone.

" _You have no power here_ ," Theoden growls and whatever's making the King's voice change, it seeps into the very air around us, poisoning it. " _Gandalf the Grey_." I take a step back at the way the voice booms in the hall, and then frown. Gandalf the Grey? He's wearing- -holy crap! That's one _bright_ robe! Gandalf has discarded the tattered cloak he'd worn into Meduseld, and revealed the resplendent thing beneath. I can't quite describe it, but...it is beautiful and powerful and I can't stop looking at it. Theoden gives a cry, as if in pain, and I flinch, feeling horrible for the old man. I don't intervene and watch helplessly as Theoden groans and clutches the armrests of his throne under Gandalf's ministrations.

Eowyn suddenly appears and runs toward Theoden, who is still crying out in pain as Gandalf wrestles with the thing within the Lord of Rohan for dominance. Aragorn holds her back, telling her to wait, eyes asking for trust. Eowyn looks between Aragorn and Theoden, battling between her will and the command Aragorn automatically brought with him. She decides to stay, placing trust in whatever Gandalf was doing.

"I will draw you out, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound." Gandalf explains, tone severe and commanding, and yet pleasant to listen. He thrusts his staff toward Theoden and the king gives off new cries of pain. I swallow. Surely, it shouldn't be this painful, should it? I suppose if the invader doesn't want to leave, it would make the exorcism that much more painful, but still. I feel horrible for the man.

" _If I go, Theoden dies!_ " Theoden growls, in a terrible voice, as jarring as Gandalf's was pleasant. Gandalf merely thrusts his staff again as Theoden strained forward angrily. This caused Theoden to go slamming back on the throne, grunting in pain.

"You did not kill me, and you will not kill him." Gandalf replies, and Theoden strains forward again, but this time there is a much more visible strain.

" _Rohan is_ _ **mine**_." The voice seethes, and I swear Theoden's eyes glinted with hatred and malice. Again, Gandalf thrusts the staff forward and again Theoden is slammed against his throne.

"Begone!" Gandalf barks, getting angry at the lack of leaving the...whatever it was was doing. I am amazed that this spirit had such control over Theoden as the aged king tries _again_ to move forward. Then, pulling out all stops, the spirit within Theoden surges forward in a last attempt to attack Gandalf, who touches his staff to the king's forehead. This has the effect of unleashing a wave of nearly imperceptible warmth and care through the hall, and Theoden falling back to the throne, then forward as his strength fails him, as if in slow-motion. I move forward, but Eowyn is already running forward, Aragorn deeming it time to release her. Theoden is panting as Eowyn steadies him just before he would've hit the ground, eyeing him warily, searching for any sign of lasting harm. There was none, thankfully. As Theoden regains his breath, sitting on the ground, some change comes over him and he...de-ages. He literally goes back in time to a younger version of himself, appearing not unlike Gandalf, except slightly younger. His eyes clear and his skin becomes fuller, more young and vibrant, color flooding into it. I can't help but laugh. That was...that was amazing!

"I know your face." Theoden muses slowly, his voice a gentler version of the king that complimented my singing last night. "Eowyn…"

"That was amazing!" I cheer in the growing silence. Everyone else was too stunned for words.

"It was." Eowyn replies breathily, smiling in pure ecstasy as her uncle smiles back at her. Theoden then looks around and notices the wizard.

"Gandalf?" He asks in surprise. Gandalf, hardly out of breath, smiles gently at the pair.

"Breath the free air again, my friend." He announces happily. Theoden then stands up, grimacing a little as his body adjusts to being younger and moving on his own again. Theoden then frowns a little.

"Dark have been my dreams of late." He mumbles. I nod.

"So I've heard." I muse. Theoden turns then to me.

"Ah. Rowena the off-worlder." I nod, dipping a little to show respect.

"Your servant, my liege." I reply. He nods, frowning in thought.

"I remember you singing last night." I gulp. I hear a small snicker from Gimli behind me and my cheeks heat a little.

"Y-yes, milord. I did."

"Now, Rowena, may your first service to me be to tell me if I truly sent my nephew to the dungeon." I blanch. Oh, crap.

The seconds drag on in a way that answers the question better than words. I swallow. Theoden grimaces.

"Then let me rectify the error I have made. Please, tell Hama to release him and bid Eomer come to me that I may beg his forgiveness." I nod eagerly, unexpectedly happy. I suppose having your friend released from an unjust imprisonment does that to you. I fairly skip to Hama, who had been watching the proceedings and we depart, me all but sprinting down to the cell.

"Eomer!" I cry. He's already at the door.

"I heard a commotion upstairs. By Bema, what is it?" He replies eagerly, pressing against the bars.

"Gandalf just healed Theoden, and Grima is about to be exiled, I think." If I remember right, some creepy guy is gonna be hauled off and tossed down the stairs. Eomer's eyes go wide.

"Indeed? 'Tis more than I reckoned and hoped for!" Just as Hama comes down the small stair before the dungeons, I laugh.

"And that is not all my news." I tell him excitedly, coming closer to the bars. Soon, we're half a foot away and I halt, then take a step back to allow Hama to the door. Eomer frowns.

"What is this?" He asks, backing fearfully away from the door and Hama, who holds the door open. There's a smile on his face and in his eyes.

"By order of King Theoden of Rohan, you are released." He announces.


	14. Theodred's Funeral and Survivor's Guilt

**THIS IS A KIND OF IMPORTANT CHAPTER FOR ROWENA, AND ROWENA/EOMER, BUT THERE ISN'T ROMANCE JUST YET. WARNING: SADNESS AHEAD. HOPE YOU ENJOY AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK OF HOW I HANDLED THIS MOMENT. HOPE I HANDLED IT WELL AND THAT YOU ALL ENJOY IT.**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

Eomer laughs and comes out of the cell. The first thing I do is hug him tightly. He is slightly taken aback, but hugs me eagerly nonetheless in his elation, even swinging me in a circle before plopping me down again. I found this all quite natural and acceptable, despite the queer look Hama gave us.

"Might I have my sword back?" Eomer asks, hand still on my waist, lilting a little dizzily, a broad, delighted smile on his face that flared my cheeks a little.

"Come on! Your uncle wants to see you!" I chirp, not waiting for the sword to be brought, taking Eomer's wrist and tugging him along. He falls in behind me, half stumbling and I slow down a touch to let him get his feet under him. By now, we're in the main room and Gandalf is saying something about fingers grasping swords. Eomer then draws his own sword and approaches Theoden when Hama reveals that his sword is not on him.

"Take this, dear lord!" Eomer calls out, drawing his sword (Hama had retrieved it during my mad rush with Eomer back to the main room we now stand in and had now given it to Eomer) and presenting the hilt to Theoden, who beholds his nephew with remorseful, caring eyes. "It was ever at your service." Eomer kneels, but Theoden guides him back up, taking the hilt and presenting it back to Eomer. Both had genuine smiles on their faces, which prompted a smile on my face, as well.

"Would that I remembered that yestereve when I sent you unjustly to the dungeons. I crave your forgiveness of an old man's error, nephew." Eomer nods graciously.

"I know it was not your own words that ordered my imprisonment, but those of a corrupted man, twisting you to Shadow and despair." He replies gently. "Please, uncle, let us forget this trifle." He then holds the sword aloft. "Westu Theoden hal!" Eomer cries heartily. I have no idea what it means, but it sounds like some kinda hail or something for Theoden. "It is a joy to us to see you return to your own." It was clear in his eyes that he meant it more than his voice said. Eomer then turns to Gandalf. "Never again shall it be said, Gandalf, that you come only with grief." Theoden's eyes then harden as he half-turns to where Grima tries to slink out of Gimli's grasp, bringing us to the only other matter at hand. The Dwarf is strong, though, and the attempt fails. I glower at him sourly and Theoden storms forward, cold rage in his eyes and in his manner. Grima pales. Hama and some other guy grab Grima at Theoden's direction and haul him toward the door. I sprint over and pull the door open, sneering at Grima as he passes and is tossed down the stairs. I grimace a little, but can't feel too much pity for him, even if he broke something.

"I've only ever served you, my lord." He whines, backing away on all fours. I scoff.

"By draining the life out of him?!" I snap coldly. "Right. Real servitude right there." I snark, arms crossed over my chest angrily.

"Your leechcraft would have had me crawling on all fours like a beast!" Theoden roars furiously, and though he stumbled once or twice, he stood tall and proud as he dealt judgement at last on Grima.

"Send me not from your sight!" Grima begs piteously. Theoden swings the sword overhead, preparing to dispose of Grima once and for all. I pale. Oh, crap! That's going too far! I was prepared from banishment, not _murder_! I race forward and grab one arm even as Aragorn grabs the other one.

"No, milord!" We cry at the same time. "No, my lord." Aragorn continues. "Let him go."

"Don't stoop to his level, my liege." Aragorn nods.

"Enough blood has been spilt on his account." Grima starts to rise as Theoden calms. I direct the sword downward just to be safe. Theoden glares hotly at Grima nonetheless and I can't help but glare, as well. Nobly, Aragorn offers Grima a hand up, but the filth spits on it and Aragorn jerks the hand away, wiping it on his pants disgustedly. I storm forward.

"He was trying to help you!" I bark. "Though you don't deserve it! I'm beginning to regret stalling the sword." I growl. Grima stands and sprints away in cowardice, shoving bystanders away in anger.

"Good riddance, coward!" I scream after him, flipping him off, though he couldn't see it. Aragorn chuckles at me. The seconds then tick by and no one moves.

"Hail Theoden King!" Aragorn suddenly cries, and all nearby bows, the men of the Rohirrim drawing swords and presenting them on their outstretched hands.

"Command us!" They cry as one. I get a small chill. That was impressive. Theoden beholds this with an unreadable expression.

"Arise, faithful Rohirrim!" He orders kindly after a moment. "Go, Hama, and retrieve my sword. Grima had it in his keeping." He then turns to Gandalf as we walk back into Meduseld as if nothing had happened. I can't help a chuckle. Gimli then finds me, and there is mischief in his eyes.

"Hey, Gimli." I greet. He nods in reply.

"Did I hear right that you sang to Theoden last night?" My cheeks flare up brightly and I sigh heavily. Knew there was only so long before that came up.

"Yes, and I will have you know he complimented my voice." I reply, head high though my cheeks still burn.

"Did he?" Gimli replies. "I should like to judge for myself, milady." I sigh.

"Just 'Rowena' or 'Winnie' will do with my friends." I tell him. "And maybe later. I'm not used to people actually wanting me to sing." Gimli frowns.

"Very well, though I am now very curious about your songs." I roll my eyes.

"Come on. Let's see what's going on." We come back into Meduseld and are greeted with Theoden taking a seat on his throne, sitting the tallest I have seen him upon it, looking every inch the King of Rohan. He then frowns.

"Where is Theodred?" He asks. "Where is my son?" I pale, taking a step back. Again, silence answers the question. He slumps in despair, eyes clouding in grief.

"Eomer reported his death when you could not hear." Eowyn eventually mumbles.

"Or did not want to." Theoden growls, admonishing himself. He then frowns in thought. "I seem to remember something…" He then turns to me and I take another step back. "Did...were you his healer?" My heart kicks up tenfold and my throat tightens, but I force myself forward. I owed his father the closure of an answer, at least.

"Ye-yes, yes I was, milord. I...I have had no training, but I...I did what I could." I gulp, tears brimming and starting to spill over. "I am so sorry I could not save him." I then kneel. "I beg your forgiveness, my lord." I whimper. Theoden comes forward as tears blur my vision.

"My lady...your efforts are appreciated. I wish you not be troubled at easing a soul's passing." I swallow the lump in my throat.

"Th-thank you, my liege. I...I am sorry you had find out this way." Theoden gently helps me up.

"You are not to blame for my son's departure, dear Rowena. I am sure you performed admirably. Now, let us attend to his burial." He replies heavily, and I wipe away my tears as I nod. Eowyn comes forward.

"My lord, I have started preparations already. All is nearly in order."

=#=#=#=#=

The funeral procession takes place merely an hour later, and I wear the dress I wore to my first dinner in Meduseld. It seems like weeks ago now, but it was only last night. How time flies. So much has happened so fast...it hardly seems possible. Eomer bids me stand by him and we hold back tears grimly. Now was not the time to weep as we walk slowly behind the men bearing the stretcher with Theodred's body, arrayed in his finest armor and cleaned of the elements he had been caked in when we found him. Suddenly, Eomer takes my hand and his grief is nearly tangible as he swallows thickly, eyes locked forward as if moving them would break him and he would begin to weep. I swallow hard, as well, and resolutely squeeze his hand in comfort. He was more affected than me, surely. I could help him through this, and hopefully overcome my own guilt at the same time. We reach the mound and the bearers head inside as Eowyn begins to sing slowly, the song haunting and beautiful, though I have no idea what the language means. I can hear her pain and grief as she sings, and all around her do, as well, as Theodred vanishes into his mound to rest in peace. Eomer's hand is tight against my own and it feels like a slight betrayal when a few tears slide down my cheeks. I then glance at Eomer and find a small streak down his cheeks. I feel horrible that I take that as permission to weep myself. I had no right when I was the one who failed Theodred. The stone at the mound's head slams into place and I sob under its cover. Only once. Eomer's hand tightens in comfort and I pull myself together a little and squeeze back. We seem intent on helping each other through this grief. People then slowly begin to file away, most patting Eomer, Eowyn, or Theoden on the shoulder, mumbling condolences under their breath and wiping away tears as they depart. Soon enough, those closest to Theodred remain. I swallow as we stand there, and finally let our emotions show. I let the tears flow and suddenly Eomer's shoulder is all I can see as he hugs me. I hug him to me and continue weeping, his own tears watering my hair.

"I'm so sorry!" I all but scream, fists curling into his shirt. "I...I tried to help him! I wanted to heal him so bad! I failed! I'm sorry!" Eomer shushes me with a grief-wrought voice, stroking my hair. I really don't deserve this comfort, so I pull away a little, but to my shock, Eomer doesn't let me go. "Eomer, I- -I failed and I can never apologize enough for that. I...I cost you your cousin! I…"

"You tried, Rowena. Please stop tormenting yourself. I don't want you to continue blaming yourself for what an Orc did." I try to get myself together and fail.

"Eomer…" Theoden himself rests a hand on my shoulder and I look at him, seeing the grief in his eyes and the pain brings a fresh wave of pain to my heart.

"Rowena, you may not be familiar with this land, but you cared for and tended to my son in his final moments regardless. That is something not many people would do. Please, leave the guilt and see the honor in your actions." I swallow.

"I still killed him." Eomer flinches.

"No, you did not and I would not have you think that for another moment, Rowena. Orcs are what killed him. He was beyond saving even before you intervened and tried to help. Please, desist with this self-inflicted pain." Eomer tells me. I sigh, breathing shakily to try and calm myself.

"Thank you, but I still feel guilt." Theoden nods, lips pursed.

"The curse of the survivor, I'm afraid. The healer that fails always feels thus, but it is not on your head that Theodred's blood was spilled. That is on the Orc and the Orc alone." I lick my lips. What they were saying might be true, but it does little to ease the pain in my heart. I slowly withdraw from Eomer's embrace. "Let your heart ease at knowing your actions spared him pain and release this demon within you, milady." He presses. I sigh.

"I'll...I'll try." Theoden nods, frowning in thought.

"Do you have funeral songs in your world, Rowena?" I pale.

"Songs about death, yeah, but n-none that would do this justice, milord." He smiles sadly at me, cupping my cheek.

"It may help lay this guilt to rest." I frown, deliberating.

"If my king commands it." I reply eventually. I may be trying to ease the guilt, but it was by no means gone yet. Theoden smiles at me again as Eomer takes and squeezes my hand in reassurance and support.

"I ask it only. If you truly do not desire to sing, I will not force you." I nod, and for some reason, a song springs to mind almost in spite of myself; 'See You Again' by Charlie Puth. I decide against the version with rap, however. That had no place in a setting like this. I wish I could think of a better song, but time drags on and I am already taking a step forward, breathing to calm myself enough to sing. As before, I close my eyes. That way, it's only me and I can sing better, so as to come closer to doing the moment justice.

"It's been a long day, without you my friend.

And I'll tell you all about it, when I see you again.

We've come a long way from where we began,

Oh, I'll tell you all about it when I see you again.

When I see you again.

Why'd you have to leave so soon?

Why'd you have to go?

Why'd you have to leave me when I needed you the most?"

I don't really know how to tell yah, without feeling much worse.

I know you're in a better place, but it's always gonna hurt.

Carry on! Give me all the strength I need to carry on, ah, ah-ah-hahn.

It's been a long day without you, my friend.

And I'll tell you all about it when I see you again.

We've come a long way, from where we began,

and I'll tell you all about it when I see you again.

When I see you again.

How do I breath without you?

I'm feeling so cold.

They'll be waiting right here for you til the day you're home."


	15. Theoden's Decision- -To Helm's Deep

**JUST SO YOU KNOW, ROWENA FINISHED THE SONG. I JUST DIDN'T WANT TO DRAG OUT THE CHAPTER TOO LONG BY WRITING** _ **ALL**_ **THE LYRICS OUT. I THOUGHT THE LINE I ENDED ON FIT THE BILL FOR AN ENDING, SO...THERE'S THAT. HOPE YOU LIKE IT! AND I HAD TO CHANGE THE BOY ON THE HORSE'S NAME FROM EOTHAIN (EOMER'S SECOND IN COMMAND) TO EORAND.**

 **AND THE REASON THIS IS LATE IS CUS I KINDA THOUGHT I HAD ALREADY POSTED IT AND KEPT WRITING, THEN REALIZED THAT ONE IDEA I HAD WOULD NOT WORK FOR THE STORY SO I HAD TO GO BACK AND REWRITE THE NEXT FEW CHAPTERS. ANYWAY, HOPE YOU LIKE!**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

I take a breath to prevent the return of the tears, swallowing back the lump in my throat that's starting to form as the silence lingers.

"You do not give yourself enough credit, Lady Rowena." Theoden mumbles after a moment. "That was a fine choice of song." He chokes on whatever else he's going to say and I grimace. Great. I'd only made things worse. "I hope it helped you release the burden you bear." He says with an effort. I bite my lip in thought.

"...I think it did, a little." I mumble. "In any case, I hope it helped you, as well." He nods.

"It certainly has, my lady. My thanks." Theoden replies heavily. I can tell my singing affected him, but he seems a little less wearied and troubled, so I guess I didn't screw everything up, after all. I somehow smile a little, tears still brimming in my eyes.

"That's all I wish for, my liege." I tell him as Eomer steps forward and gently wraps an arm around his shoulder, guiding me toward Meduseld.

"Come, let us depart. We have served our purpose for the moment." He says. Theoden nods, and I sigh, almost wanting to stay and try to comfort him more somehow, but then realize that he may want privacy at the moment. I remember locking myself in my room at eight after my grandfather's funeral. He'd passed in his sleep of a heart attack. I look up to see that Gandalf is waiting a respectful distance away, wishing to remain as someone for Theoden to speak to, if he so desires. I then feel a bit better at leaving and allow my friend to guide me back to the Golden Hall, as I'd heard it called.

"That was nobly done, Rowena." Eomer says. I somehow smile.

"Thank you. I...I wanted to at least try. Theoden seemed satisfied by the song, at least." I reply, fiddling with a loose strand of hair that escaped the french braid I'd done and made into a bun with ribbons and pins (yes, apparently, Middle-Earth _does_ have a kind of Bobby-pin. I was shocked, too).

"It was...unexpected, yet not unwelcome. I may never be used to your songs, Rowena, but appreciate the way it speaks of grief and tragedy." I nod.

"It was the first one that came to mind that might come close to doing this justice." Eomer squeezes my shoulders.

"It did, and more besides. Many thanks."

"You're welcome." Eomer then lets his arm fall, slowly taking my hand again. I let him. If holding hands helped, that was alright with me.

"I believe I have come to understand you a trifle better, Rowena." He muses. "You hold yourself to a high standard, and can sometimes neglect to see the success when all you set out to do is not accomplished to your hopes." I swallow. How could he have read me so easily? He barely knows me and yet...he can read me like a book.

"Yeah...I just...I know you all are hurting- -I am, too- -and I didn't want to bring further harm by doing something wrong."

"You did nothing wrong, Rowena. In fact, you have done quite the opposite."

"Thanks."

"Speak not of it. I meant every word." I squeeze his hand to further demonstrate my appreciation of his words and we then fall into a comfortable silence as we walk unhurriedly toward Meduseld.

That is, until we spot the horse, a fair distance off, with two fairly short riders on it. I gasp in shock and begin running toward it, even before the taller of the riders falls off.

"Frick!" I curse and pick up the pace, Eomer right beside me and we arrive in moments. I notice that the two riders are _kids_ , one a boy hardly older than twelve and a girl only about ten. I swallow, soothing the horse and automatically reach for the reins as Eomer examines the boy even as he takes the kid into his arms. I lead the horse toward Edoras and find that the poor thing's legs shake and tremble as it presses doggedly on. This horse has run a long distance, indeed. The little girl still in the saddle is eyeing us with wide, fearful eyes that are overbright with exhaustion. I smile gently at her and ask her her name. She merely scoots as far away as the saddle allows.

"I wouldn't move too much, sweetheart." I tell her as gently as I can. "It's okay. You can trust us. We're not going to hurt you." Gandalf then meets us and the girl flinches away from him. "He's my friend. He won't hurt you. It's alright." I explain gently, slowly raising a hand to pat her leg comfortingly. She pulls it away, which nearly makes her fall out of the saddle. Geez! What could have made this little girl so haunted and untrusting?

=#=#=#=#=

After much convincing and a lot of gentle leading and murmured words, we had the pair seated at a table and two bowls of stew placed before them. The boy had recovered well after being tended to by Gandalf. The girl was adamant that no one should go near her brother (it was clear they were siblings, looking as similar as Eomer and Eowyn), but eventually Gandalf slipped by her and performed a short examination, running his hands skillfully and deftly over the frail body on the bench, muttering strange words under his breath before the boy had sat bolt upright, gasping and crying out in alarm. From there, it had been an ordeal getting the skittish pair to settle down and trust us enough to eat what we placed before them and talk to us.

Thankfully, we'd soon gotten a fractured, incomplete, but intelligible tale from them.

"They had no warning. They were unarmed." Eowyn starts her report, standing from where she was encouraging the girl to eat. I nod.

"Ambush." I mumble, the thought sending chills down my spine. Eowyn nods, hatred blazing in her eyes.

"Now the Wild Men are heading through the Westfold, burning as they go, rick, cot and tree." Those poor people. How could people do this to one another? From what I gathered, the attackers were wild, savage men that showed neither pity nor mercy, carrying out destruction to the utmost extreme. These unfortunate children escaped by mere chance and the speed of the horse now being tended to in the stables.

"Those savage fricking cowards!" I growl. "Attacking peaceful outlying villages like that!" I add, ready to spit nails and storm the ranks of those awful men, regardless of the consequences or my own death.

"Where's Mama?" Frida, the little girl, asks innocently. I find myself tearing up, rage forgotten, as Eowyn gently wraps a blanket around the girl, shushing her.

"I don't know, Frida. Why don't you finish that stew, and then I can show you around this hall? That sounds fun, right?" I ask, smiling falsely. It does the trick, however, and the little girl starts chowing down again.

"This is what we've come to, is it?" Eomer asks furiously, shaking his head in utter contempt. "Brother against brother, when all Free Peoples should be united against this present evil. The world is all grown strange and dark, with this very sight becoming an all too familiar tale." He surmises grimly. I swallow. What exactly am I in the middle of? Gandalf sighs heavily, sitting beside Theoden, who had the bridge of his nose in between his fingers in despair and grief for such wanton loss of his people.

"Indeed, Eomer. This is but a taste of the terror Saruman will unleash. All the more potent, for he is driven now by fear of Sauron." I cock a brow at the second name. Was he the main bad guy behind everything? I assume so, for everyone grimaces at 'Sauron' like it is a curse or an unpleasant, jarring sound. Theoden thinks for a long moment.

"What you have me do now, Gandalf? Ever you come with counsel, and I would receive it gladly now." Gandalf seems happy to hear Theoden humble himself enough to ask for help, a more serious expression clouding the wizard's face in a heartbeat.

"You must ride swiftly to the Deep and prepare for war to protect your women and children that remain."

I gulp. This was getting serious and decidedly more dangerous, wasn't it?

Frick.

"With Eomer's company and those scattered around Rohan, we stand a good chance at the Deep." Aragorn adds. Theoden stands and starts pacing around the immediate area worriedly.

"Those scattered cannot be easily recalled. And in either event, I will not bring further death to my people, and am loathe to risk open war." Aragorn frowns.

"Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not." Tension rises in the room as Theoden's eyes grow cold and he halts, spinning on his heel to face Aragorn.

"When last I looked, _Theoden_ , not Aragorn, was King of Rohan." Theoden snaps testily, obviously stung by Aragorn's apparent lack of respect for his reign. I want to defend Aragorn, but know better and keep quiet.

"And what is the King's decision?" Gandalf asks placatingly. Theoden frowns thoughtfully as he turns slowly.

"We will go to Helm's Deep at first light." He replies. Gandalf nods.

"I believe that is the best choice for the survival of Rohan." He replies. Theoden sighs.

"Let us hope we are right."

=#=#=#=#=

The night descends into chaos as all in Meduseld prepare provisions and other things for our departure. I head to my room and grab my satchel, dumping the contents out on the bed. I found nothing I hadn't seen before, except a hip holster for my glock, and now I had to decide what to take with me. The dress was right out; it would get in the way, so I changed into the second available outfit: Another pair of cotton pants, these ones sunset orange and a little looser, tucking into my boots comfortably. On top went a tunic of deep wine red, with a thick leather vest that had a simple appeal to it. Over this, I would wear the coat I'd arrived in Middle-Earth in. No wonder the satchel felt so heavy when I was running.

I sigh and reluctantly put the dress on the end of the bed for when I get back to Meduseld. I swallow at the unbidden thought that it might be 'if', not 'when', but I refuse to acknowledge the possibility that I would not see the Golden Hall again. After all, I heard a few Rohir speak of a system of caves the women and children spend the battle in, with a guard called 'shieldmaidens' to make sure nothing happened in the caves.

I'd be fine.

I then curse my own cowardice. _Fricking hypocrite, yelling at Grima for being a coward, but then turning around and refusing to fight just cus I'm a little scared._ I wanted to be an Army Nurse, fer Pete's Sake! Get it together, Rowena!

Shaking myself, I slip the ammo box and Eomer's spare bedroll he insisted I keep into the satchel and grab my hip-holster to keep my glock more handy. I set the outfit aside on my bedside table for the morning and take a deep breath, making sure my glock was hidden by my clothes. No sense provoking whatever reaction would come from the gun preemptively. I'd get enough questions tomorrow if my jacket didn't- -wait...I can check myself right now.

I find that it barely goes down enough. In a saddle, though, it would be plain to see.

 _Great_. With that thought, I suddenly remember that I was supposed to guide Frida around Meduseld. I came out to find her sitting right where I'd left her, a tiny little girl in the middle of the semi-organized chaos of packing for a trip. I make my way to her and take her hand gently.

"Frida?" I ask. "Remember I wanted to show you around Meduseld?" I go on. The girl nods, grateful that there was someone relatively familiar paying attention to her. "Come on, then!" I chirp, leading her to the various murals hanging on the walls. I didn't know the tales behind them, but I showed them to the little girl, making sure I could keep her out of the way. It worked like a charm and she was distracted. Eventually, her brother, Eorand, joined us. This was good, I realize. I had no place in the hectic hustle and bustle currently overtaking Meduseld, having packed already, and as such had found myself on babysitting duty at present, which was fine.

I didn't need to be too involved at this stage.

Eomer finds us eventually.

"I apologize for stranding you in the middle of all the chaos." He muses with a wry grin.

"No need. Frida, Eorand, and I were just touring Meduseld. The murals are quite lovely." He nods, eyes wistful and full of memory. He proceeded to explain some of the murals, voice betraying the interest he held in the tales. I found the history interesting at the time, something about how Gondor made peace with some ancient wild tribe and gave them the land now called Rohan to seal the deal, but I am sad to say I cannot remember much of it now. I only remember the joy in Eomer's eyes as he spoke of the warriors of old that shaped Rohan's history. It was a joy to listen to a detailed tale when the teller is so invested in the story.

He got to a mural depicting a woman in armor, standing protectively over a man that seemed dead, sword up against an attacking Orc twice her height.

"That is Gwedolyn, the first shieldmaiden." Eomer says fondly. "She stole into the Rohirrim at night to be with her husband and defended him bravely against many foes. Thus, we people of Rohan started allowing maidens to learn fighting and become a rearguard when we are on the move or in the Deep." I nod.

"In my world, women were allowed into the army to fight beside men." Eomer cocks his head. We had sat down at a bench out of the way and the children had fallen asleep during the tales long gone. Frida was snuggled against my chest and Eorand was leaning against the table with one hand holding his sister's. I found the scene adorable before focusing back on Eomer.

"Indeed?" He asks.

"Yeah. The woman went through training like any man, and if she passed, she fought with the men in battle. Or became an army medic, and helped that way." I explain. He nods.

"Intriguing. It would seem your world is not so different from ours as first glance suggests." I chuckle.

"I suppose there might be a few similarities, but also a lot of differences. For one thing, we use first names primarily when addressing each other and use a lot of slang or informal speech when talking." Eomer chuckles.

"Another similarity, I deem, first name addressing aside. Each nation and land in Middle-Earth has their own language and dialect. One would have to travel very often and stay long periods of time to study and learn them all." I laugh. This was nice, chatting and discovering that maybe, just maybe, I didn't have as much adjusting as I once thought I did to this new life.

I found that thought peaceful, and it stayed with me til an early curfew was called and we headed to bed.


	16. On the Road to War

**I FEEL I OWE YOU ALL AN APOLOGY AND EXPLANATION FOR ALL THE SONGS I'VE USED SO FAR. I JUST...I REALLY LIKE MUSIC AND SONGS MYSELF AND WHEN A SONG FITS A PART OF MY STORY, I LIKE TO INCLUDE IT. HOPE YOU ALL FORGIVE ME AND DON'T MIND. I AM NOT INTENDING TO MAKE ROWENA A MINSTREL OR A BARD IN THIS STORY. SINGING IS JUST ONE OF HER HOBBIES.  
GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

The next morning was fairly hectic, as well, with everyone gathering and readying horses and what few wagons there were for travel. I paused at the thought of leaving the pillar I was leaning against, taking in the view one last time. This place has certainly made a place in my heart that threatens to break when I leave, yet leave I must. I would be ashamed to be left behind, cowering in Meduseld, while everyone else leaves.

Theoden talking to Hama suddenly draws my attention and I turn, grateful for the excuse to stay where I was.

"Behold, I go forth, and it seems likely to be my last riding." He muses grimly. "With Theodred my son slain," I bite my lip, my heart and throat clenching for a moment, "I now name Eomer my sister-son as my heir." I gulp. Surely, this situation was not entirely hopeless, right? I know there is a high chance many will die, but...I guess Theoden wants to cover all his bases before he leaves. I muse absently that I can now say I know the- -for lack of a better term- -Crown Prince of Rohan. Weird. "If neither of us return, then choose a new lord as you will. But to someone I must now entrust my people left behind. Which of you will stay?" I shrink back a bit. Leadership was not something I desired or craved and would hate to be called on in the event no one else spoke up. Everyone else, evidently, had the same idea. Not one of them stepped forward. "In whom do my people trust?" Theoden presses when no one answers.

"In the House of Eorl." Hama replies. I frown. I think I remember a mural of a horse-rider by that name, but can't recall for certain. The man was handsome and seemed a noble, kingly man from the mural. I shake myself as Theoden replies

"Eomer will not stay and he is the last of that house." I roll my eyes. Eowyn is also of that house, isn't she? She could lead the people, though she really won't like missing battle; everyone in Rohan seems battle-driven and eager for a fight. Hama has the same idea

"I said not Eomer, nor is he the last of the house." Hama points out. "There is Eowyn, his sister. She is fearless and high-hearted. All the people love her. Let her be as Lord to the Eorlingas, while we are gone." Theoden likes this idea, and nods approvingly.

"Let it be so." He says. "Let the heralds announce to the folk that the lady Eowyn will lead them." Theoden then sits on a nearby bench for a moment and Eowyn comes out. It seems she knew what was happening and didn't like it.

"Am I always to be left behind?" She asks dejectedly, "To ready the beds and food when you return, without guarantee I will see you again?" I sigh, feeling sympathy for the woman; my uncle and cousins had joined the National Guard, and I had deliberated too long in joining them before my arrival here.

"Eowyn, I pray you realize this brings me no joy. I would not entrust our people to any but those closest to me. Eomer is Third Marshall and would not stay if I asked it." Eowyn frowns.

"And yet, you ask it of _me_ , when you know I desire to ride with you." Theoden sighs.

"I think only of our people and the preservation of our family, as much as can be helped in these times." I then turn away, feeling I was intruding on a _very_ private family affair. I turn, heading into Meduseld to retrieve my satchel before making my way into the procession gathering in the streets of Edoras. Once in the privacy of my room, I grabbed my hip holster and clipped it securely over my leg and hips, sliding the glock into it with a practiced hand. I swallow hard and button up my coat to conceal it. If any see it, I would naturally tell them that it was something that would help in the war. But no more. This did not seem the time to halt everything for a weapon demonstration before all of Edoras. It might come up tonight, if anyone looks too closely at me. Whatever. It would come out eventually.

=#=#=#=#=

I feel horrible, leaving while Eowyn is forced to stay. No one had told me I _couldn't_ come, however, so I decided I may as well come along; I had yet to do anything of note or importance. Again, I decided to look after Frida and Eorand, as no one else seemed to be able to spare the time. I had my satchel over my shoulder and the kids' horse's reins in my hand as I led them into the crowd that began filtering out of the walls surrounding Edoras. I had added in what little provisions (mainly waterskins and a few apples) I could to my satchel before heading out and it weighed me down more than ever. It would be a _long_ walk, that's for sure. Theoden was at the head of our little exodus to Helm's Deep, wherever and whatever that was. To make myself feel better and to pass the time, I started humming 'Marching On' by One Republic. I always liked that song, and it seemed to fit our current situation. It seemed almost hopeless, but still we'd press on.

"What's that you're humming?" Frida asks. I start a little, forgetting that there were two kids listening to me. I chuckle awkwardly.

"It's just a song I know. Sorry."

"I like songs!" Frida tell me eagerly. I glance ahead to see that Gimli is struggling to ride in front of me. He'd most definitely hear me singing and then he'd mock me. I sigh, unable to resist the poor girl's enthusiastic nature. I begin the song again and start singing.

" _For those days we feel like a mistake. For those times when love's what you hate...somehow we keep marching on._ " The lyrics flow easily out my mouth and I find I quite enjoy being free to sing to the wind, forgetting the people around me, Gimli in particular. I nod and tap my legs to the beat as I walk, and eventually have to stop and simply walk because anything more made me almost too breathless to keep singing. The children seem to like the song, and soon enough I am done, catching my breath as best I can.

"You should be a minstrel, milady." Gimli calls. I can't tell if he is mocking or not and stick my tongue at his back.

"No, thank you!"

"Why not?" He asks. I sigh.

"Well, I never really sing for an audience. I sing because I enjoy the song and when no one else can hear and judge me. I like it better that way." I explain, cheeks flaring a little.

"'Tis a pity, Rowena." Gimli replies. "You seem to have a bit of talent at it." I shake my head.

"You flatter me, Gimli, but...nah. I really don't."

"You underestimate yourself, milady.; look around you." I do and blush to find several people humming the tune and the few lyrics they remember under their breaths. I sigh and keep walking. There is little to do _but_ walk and listen, I find, until we halt for a brief noon-time meal. I find myself sitting with Frida and Eorand around Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli's fire, enjoying meat, bread and cheese as the fire kept the wind's chill away.

"Where are you from, Gimli?" I ask, genuinely curious and wanting conversation.

"I am from the Lonely Mountain of Erebor, Rowena. A fine establishment, I assure you." I nod.

"And I assume it is a Dwarf-only kinda place?" Gimli chuckles.

"Nay, the other races are permitted inside the mountain for business and tribute to the King Under the Mountain. And a rare inter-racial couple are permitted, as well." I frown.

"'King Under the Mountain'?" I ask. "What's that mean?" From there, I got a long winded explanation of how Erebor was founded and managed and even the culture of Dwarves and their traditions. I found it engaging, if not a little ludicrous sometimes with all the fancy ceremonies and ways of doing things.

"It's true you don't see many Dwarf women." Gimli replies to my question of how on Middle-Earth there were so few Dwarf marriages and a sarcastic addition of if it had something to do with a lack of women. "In fact, we are so alike in voice and appearance, that they are often mistaken for Dwarf men." I chuckle and continue eating to let him finish, glancing at Aragorn to confirm if this was true. He smiles.

"It's the beards." Aragorn whispers, stroking an imaginary beard, as his five o'clock shadow didn't count as a beard or even a moustache. I chuckle under my breath and turn my head back to continue eating.

"This, in turn," Gimli continues, "has given rise to the belief that there _are_ no Dwarf women, and that Dwarves simply spring out of holes in the ground, which, of course, is absolutely ridiculous!" I laugh at that, the mental imagery too much. Frida and Eorand join in and soon, we all fall about in helpless laughter. I soon find it in me to stop and finish the meal before the horn to mount again was sounded.

All too soon, it was.

=#=#=#=#=

I will say this only of the rest of the day; walking all day is _not_ a whole lot better than running!

My legs nearly collapse beneath me as we stop, but at least I am not as bad as when Eomer found me and the others. I sigh gratefully, spreading my bedroll out and sitting down before beginning to stretch out my legs. It felt wonderful, and yet nearly painful. A catharsis, to be sure, one I had forgotten all about somehow til now.

"What are you doing?" Came Eomer's voice. I squeaked and tumbled into a mess of bedroll and limbs as I tried to turn _while still doing_ the pigeon pose.

"Geez, Eomer! Give a girl a heart attack, why don't yah?" I ask testily, but not angrily as I untangled myself. "I was just stretching my legs." I explain upon realizing I hadn't answered the question. Eomer cocks a brow.

"How does contorting your body like that not make your legs hurt worse?" I chuckle, straightening out the bedroll to resume stretching.

"It does bring discomfort, but it also helps work out something called lactic acid- -at least, that's what it's called in my world- -building up when you exert your legs. It makes your legs feel sore and tired, so if you can get that lactic acid out…" I grimace as I deepen the pigeon pose, "it helps you run or exercise longer." I finish. Eomer steps forward.

"Are you sure you need to bring discomfort on yourself like this?" He asks. I laugh.

"Yeah...I need to be as able-bodied as possible for- -ow- -for the coming battle, but thanks for the concern." I reply, going into a butterfly stretch. Eomer chuckles.

"Ever you remain a mystery." He muses wryly. I chuckle, as well.

"I'm like an onion; I got a lotta layers to me." I reply. Eomer laughs at the comparison.

"Though I must say, you smell much more pleasant." I chuckle, cheeks flaring ever so slightly.

"Thanks." A thought then occurs to me; the battle. We were heading to Helm's Deep to get it fortified and ready to defend before Saurman's forces descend on it. How would I fit into all that? I frown at the thought as I stand and grab a leg, standing slightly off-balance as I continue working out my lactic acid buildup. "Hey, Eomer..?"

"Yes, Rowena?"

"Why am I here?" I ask slowly. "I've been nothing but a burden. First, my friends had to give up a bit of their supplies because I didn't have any, then you have to take the time to take me along to Edoras, and...with Theodred, as well...and now...I'm just another woman to worry about." I mumble, sitting down and forgetting all about stretching. Eomer frowns in thought as he sits beside me.

"I...I do not know, but I can say this; whatever the reason, I am glad of your company. It seems much has changed since you arrived. For instance, I have not seen Eowyn so happy and at ease in a long time, nor heard such songs and tales as you have brought from your world." I sigh.

"But is that all I'm good for, Eomer? Songs, laughter, and tales?" I ask, fiddling with my fingers. I don't know where this sudden insecurity came from, but it refuses to leave.

"I think not, Rowena. You do have some place in the future, in Middle-Earth, but what that place is, I do not know. I can only say that I believe you are making the right choices. Having you here, on the way to Helm's Deep, is an unexpected pleasure." I frown playfully.

"'Unexpected'?" I repeat, poking his ribs, "You don't think I naturally bring pleasure wherever I go?" I tease. Eomer swats my hand away, poking me in return.

"Nay, Rowena. I was only meaning that the amount of pleasure was unexpected." I halt for a moment; what did that mean?

"I'm glad you think so. I just hope I don't make things worse in the days to come."

"I suppose that remains to be seen." I sigh and nod, knowing he was right.

"Thanks. That helped." Eomer smiles.

"I am glad to ease whatever troubles weigh you down, Rowena." I can't explain the happiness I feel at those words, at the way Eomer talks to me; easily, without reservation. He is the only person, at least right now, that I feel I can open up more to, because I know he'd accept me nonetheless, still calling me friend after all the trouble I've caused. With this happy thought, I reclined and stared up at the stars peacefully as Eomer look on in slight bewilderment.

"I like star-gazing when I get the chance." I explain. "And these stars are new to me, so...I wanted to look at them." Eomer chuckles and decides to lay _right_ next to me, which only serves to flare my cheeks a little. If Gimli caught me...I'd never hear the end of it. His arm snakes its way under my head and I can't help but like this peaceful, quiet moment in all this uncertainty.

"I enjoy the stars, as well, when my duty permits the occasion." I nod.

"I've known a lot of my own world's constellations, but I know that around there" I reply, pointing to an area in the sky I knew the North Star would be in my world, "would be what we call the North Star, the only star in the sky that does not move. From there, I can usually pick out a constellation called the Big Dipper, like a large ladle in the sky." I tell him. Eomer then start pointing to various stars, explaining what they were and something about their history. It is as intriguing as the stories of the murals. One constellation, cleverly titled 'the Shield' is what Eomer calls the inspiration for the King of Rohan's shield, handed down from the time of one of the first few of Rohan's Kings.

Eventually, though...I close my eyes and fall asleep, forgetting that I was all but curled up against Eomer's chest for any passerby to see.


	17. Sanctuary in the Deep At Last

**SORRY, GUYS, BUT THIS ONE IS A** _ **TAD**_ **SHORTER THAN THE OTHERS. AT LEAST ROWENA IS AT HELM'S DEEP NOW, SO THE STORY IS** _ **THAT**_ **MUCH CLOSER TO THE BATTLE OF HELM'S DEEP, SO I SUPPOSE THAT COULD MAKE UP FOR THIS CHAPTER'S SHORTNESS? AGAIN, SORRY, BUT I FEEL LIKE THIS ENDING WAS A GOOD PLACE FOR IT TO END.**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

The morning came and the sunlight once more acted like an alarm clock, waking me up and making me sit up, putting a hand up to block the burning light. I then glance around, blinking, to find…

 _Holy fricking crap_! I fell asleep with Eomer?! Only half-cuddled up to him, but still. If anyone had seen...oh, geez. I...it was nice...especially the talk and the solid advice he gave me, but...the way it looked...heh. No one would believe that we weren't...um... _involved_ with each other if they saw that, most likely. I can't help a chuckle at that thought. I'd never been the girl to fantasize about these kind of things. I had been something of an aromantic, though if someone had asked, I probably would have said yes. Now, though...I was sitting here, worrying if someone would think the wrong thing about Eomer and I. What's wrong with me?

"Good morning, Rowena." He greets. I stand quickly, blushing.

"Morning, Eomer. I, um, I think I need to start getting...breakfast together before we hit the road again." He sits up, frowning.

"We haven't struck the road. There is not even a road _to_ strike." I can't help but laugh.

"Oh, no, that's not what I meant. It means 'get going' or 'continue on our way' in my world." I explain, chuckling. "Told you we had a lot of slang terms." Eomer nods.

"I see." I shake my head at myself.

"I probably should start trying to use Middle-Earth terminology more often." I muse, more to myself than Eomer, whose shaking his head, smiling.

"I enjoy it, Rowena. You need not stop on my account." I smile at him as I dig out some apples and bread to have with our water. It would have to do for a traveler's breakfast.

"Thanks." I sigh contentedly and recline as I had last night, biting into the apple. I then smile wryly.

"This brings back memories." I muse, taking another bite. Eomer nods, chuckling.

"Indeed. Things seemed simpler then." I sigh, nodding in a suddenly more serious mood.

"Yeah, and now...we prepare for war." Eomer takes another bite and I do, as well.

"With little hope of prevailing." I swallow the apple in my mouth before replying.

"Well, as long as we hold to that sliver of hope, we'll come out alright." I tell him, picking my words carefully. Now that I thought on it more, I remember Eomer being banished or something and then there was this huge battle in the movies, with a huge fortress in the rain, with Elves coming in and helping...and we- _-Rohan_ \- -wins. Although...Eomer hadn't been banished; he'd been imprisoned and was now here, on his way to Helm's Deep when he 'wasn't supposed to' in the movies.

How would this affect the battle to come?

"I suppose that's all we can do now, Rowena." Eomer replies tightly, sounding really uncertain. The most uncertain I had ever heard him. Eventually, though, we had to get moving again and Eomer is lost in the crowds as I find Frida and Eorand and begin to lead them once more.

=#=#=#=#=

Nothing really happened until shortly after about 4:00 in the afternoon.

Then, all hell broke loose as large wolf-like creatures bearing Orcs similar to those I saw at the massacre on the riverbank came upon us. I felt terror seize me; those things were big, nasty, and out for blood. They wouldn't stop until all of us were dead.

WIthout thinking, and under the influence of adrenaline and reckless abandon, I pull my glock out and cock it, drawing the hammer back as a Warg leapt at Hama's face.

"Hama, duck!" I scream, and he does not a moment too soon as the shot rings out amid the noise of battle. The warg falls with an eye blown out and silence falls as everyone, Rohir and Orc alike, stopped to see what the noise was. I take a breath, heart hammering and hands subtly shaking with nerves and adrenaline. _Take a breath, align with the target, squeeze the trigger, and follow through_. My gun safety instructor's voice rang out in my head as I spin on my heel and shoot an Orc advancing on Eomer not ten feet away. This second shot seems to have the opposite effect as the first one and the fighting breaks out again. Theoden is suddenly mounted and beside me.

"Milady, it seems you have yet more surprises about you." He muses, glancing at the glock in my hand. I smile wryly up at him.

"Didn't think it would come up in conversation for a while, my liege. Sorry. I had meant to reveal it when the time was right." I say, firing at another few Orcs.

"It appears the time, right or not, has come, Lady Rowena. Now, I need you to lead the people east toward the Deep while the Rohirrim with us fend off the attackers." Theoden orders. I frown.

"All due respect, Your Highness, but I think I can do more good here." Theoden shakes his head, thankfully not reprimanding me or anything for my questioning his order.

"WIth that weapon of yours, it would be more prudent to use it to guard the people's retreat to Helm's Deep." I sigh, but know he has a point. That, and he _is_ the King. I nod reluctantly. I had spent my question already. I didn't want to get in trouble by continuing to question him.

"Okay." I agree and move toward the panicking populace as Theoden orders the Rohirrim among the crowd to mount up and fight. I whistle loudly. "Let's go!" I yell. "This way!" I add, using the sun to gauge where east was and see a mountain that must be where Helm's Deep is. "If you want to live, follow me to the Deep!" I roar when no one really pays attention to me. They do after that last statement, though, and get their butts in gear. I find Gremund, used to carry sacks of provisions, and mount him. "Sorry, boy, but I need a better vantage point." I tell him, feeling only slightly foolish before remembering that (probably) here in Rohan, horses are practically family. I look and find Frida and Eorand, trying to keep control of their horse as it started to panic. I can't do anything as I direct people toward the mountain I'd seen. "Keep going!" I call, turning every once in a while to ensure we're not pursued, but the Rohirrim have the Wargs pretty well-handled and few, if any, get through them. The ones that do soon aren't a problem, despite the fact that I am not used to firing from horseback. Gremund continues toward Helm's Deep at a good clip after the citizens of Rohan as if someone were leading him, he was so well-trained, leaving me to watch for Wargs. Soon, we are out of danger and I relax, but don't put the gun away just yet. You never know when danger might spring out without warning.

However, I soon find that the Rohirrim evidently have done a thorough job; there is no pursuit any long and I soon put the gun in it's holster in a manner that would ease its withdrawal in the increasingly unlikely I'd need the gun again. I sigh and round a corner of the treeline, only to find that I was now much closer to the mountain than I had thought originally. I join in the cries of relief that Helm's Deep was in sight and so close at hand, but pause and look back before I enter the gates and see that, although there are no Wargs, there are no Rohirrim, either, which worries me. I take a breath, shaking my head at this turn of events.

Just about this time yesterday, I was talking to Eomer, without a care in world, in the dungeons, unknowing that in just a day, war would come upon us. This Warg attack was the herald of the force coming against Rohan, and now there was little to no time to actually prepare the defenses as well as we once thought we could.

 _Great_.

I wheel Gremund around and head to the small stables already nearly half full with the horses that weren't used by the Rohirrim still fending off the mounted Orcs. There hadn't been _that_ many offenders, right? What was taking so long?

"Mama!" Frida's voice cries, distracting me. A woman's voice cries out Frida's and Eorand's names in elation as I turn and smile, leading Gremund into a stall and taking the bags of food off his sadle. Frida and Eorand were embracing a woman that could only be their mother, and it was a touching, sweet scene. I then feel a pang in my heart that I couldn't- _-wouldn't-_ -see my mother ever again. I was stranded here, in Middle-Earth, now.

I huff under the unexpected weight as I unbuckle the sadle and move to place it with the others. During the walk, I was with Frida and Eorand and I had admittedly gotten a little attached to them, but was more than willing to surrender them back to their mother, now that we found her alive and well. I move to see what else could be done to cover my slight envy of those sweet kids.

I felt now more than ever the weight of loneliness descend on me. I had been going at such a fast pace, and had gotten so wrapped on in what was going on in Middle-Earth, I'd nearly forgotten that I _wasn't_ from here. I belonged in my world, but was stuck here. I like it here, don't get me wrong, but...what was my family doing now?

Were they...were they having a funeral for me? Had they found something in the lake? Did they even know I was gone yet? After all, I had a job as a school janitor and a barista at a local cafe to get me enough money to live by and they had kept me busy. Sometimes, I'd fall out of contact with my family for a few days, but...surely they'd noticed that something was off by _now_ , right? Dad was probably on another of his multiple business trips, and as such would be the last to think of how long it had been since he heard from me.

But...Jerry, Willow, Mom...had they even noticed yet? Were they grieving?

"Ma! You need to meet Rowena! She helped us!" Frida chirps, dragging the woman by the wrist toward me. I try to keep out of sight, but the little girl spots me and all but sprints to me. I look up at the mother as I hug Frida, who barely comes to the start of my ribcage.

"I...No one else was around the outside of Edoras when they got there. I helped get them the last bit of the way into Meduseld and Eowyn and I made sure they got stew."

"And a man in funny white robes helped Eorand, Mama!" Frida added. "He fell off Garald and the man helped him!"

"I see." The woman said, hands around her children's shoulders as if she would never let go. "At least Eorand is unharmed now. In any case, I forget to introduce myself. My name is Gertude." I nod awkwardly, unsure how women in Rohan greeted each other.

"Pleasure to meet you, ma'am. I'm Rowena." I say, a little absently. "You've raised fine children." She smiles down at them.

"Yes, they are. Many thanks for your part." Frida's words had brought something to mind I'd quite forgotten about; I had yet to see Gandalf since we left Edoras. Where had he gone? Perhaps he was simply lost in the many faces and bodies of the crowd, but you would think he'd stand out with those bright white robes...

"You're quite welcome." I mumble distractedly. "I'm sorry, but I must go see what else needs to be done before the Rohirrim get here." Gertrude does not protest and I swiftly exit the stable, going on a quick walk-around what I could easily get to of the Deep, eyes scanning for Gandalf, before I find myself helping to gather the supplies to be moved into something everyone calls the 'Glittering Caves'. Once that's done, I make sure that there are as many available stalls as possible for as many horses still carrying Rohirrim that would be arriving shortly.

 _I hope._


	18. Waiting Is the Hardest Part

**PREPARE FOR (KINDA) ANGSTY ROWENA/EOMER FLUFF, PEOPLE! I APOLOGIZE FOR HOLDING BACK ON THE ROMANCE, BUT I WANT TO DO THIS** _ **RIGHT**_ **, NOT JUST RUSH IN AND MAKE A MESS OF THINGS. HOPE YOU LIKE THE CHAPTER AND PREPARE FOR ACTION NEXT CHAPTER!**

 **IT DEALS WITH (HOPEFULLY ALL OF) THE BATTLE OF HELM'S DEEP, ONE OF THE MOST IMPRESSIVE SCENES IN THIS SERIES, TO ME.**

 **AND TO Me and not You 1001, CONCERNING ARAGORN: IN MY STORY, HE DIDN'T GO OVER THE CLIFF. HE GOT OFF THAT WARG AND WAS FINE. I FEEL LIKE THAT WAS A POINTLESS ATTEMPT AT DRAMA AND DIDN'T FEEL IT WAS NECESSARY FOR THIS STORY. I'VE BEEN MEANING TO TELL YOU, BUT JUST HAVEN'T GOT AROUND TO IT TIL NOW. SORRY, FRIEND. THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR SUPPORT. IT MEANS A LOT TO ME.**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

It was not long to wait until the others arrive, haggard and weary, but alive.

Most of them, anyway. There are wounded on horses and wounded horses, so I run forward and help get the men off the horses and onto as flat an area as I can quickly find, allowing the healers to come in. I had no desire to be responsible for another person's wellbeing just yet. I ran and fetched herbs and bandages, but nothing more.

I was then suddenly pulled into a side hallway down into another part of the Deep, and find myself facing Eomer, his eyes baring a strange light I couldn't place yet.

"Eomer?" I ask. There's something...angry in his eyes. What it was at or about, I had no idea.

"Why didn't you tell me about your weapon before now?" He asks sharply. I take a step back. This was as cold as he had _ever_ been to me. I didn't like the look in his eyes.

"Eomer...I'm sorry. I just...it didn't seem relevant until now. I wasn't expecting to have to use it so soon. I planned on telling you and Theoden when the time was right, but...it never felt right." Eomer crosses his arms angrily.

"Rowena...that weapon was _always_ relevant. It should have been revealed long ago." I sigh.

"Maybe," I concede placatingly, "but with everything going on, I didn't want to add whatever reaction the gun- -the weapon I used- -would bring to the concoction of emotions going on in Meduseld before we left." Eomer frowns.

"Noble, but it still should have- -do you not realize what this means?" I swallow.

"No. What does what mean?" I ask, bewildered. Eomer groans, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"Rowena...Now that you have revealed that weapon...Orcs will stop at nothing to get it and deliver it to their twisted inventors to replicate." I pale. Hadn't thought about that.

"Eomer...I'm sorry. I was- -it was the only weapon I had on me and I know how to use it, unlike a sword. I wasn't thinking." I explain hurriedly, desperate to make him understand, and to see those eyes soften again. "In my world, guns are the typical weapons. I'm so used to _that_ way of thinking, it didn't occur to me that there would even _be_ consequences here if I used a gun." I press on, touching his upper arm consolingly. I didn't like him mad at me. Sure enough, the rage starts to dim.

"I apologize, Rowena. I am merely...worried. This new weapon makes things more complicated." I frown.

"As long as all the Orcs are dead that were in that skirmish, I can't imagine _how_ the bad guys could possibly know about my gun." I retort calmingly. Eomer takes a breath.

"You are right. Bema forbid Grima should have known about it before he left, however. I shudder to think what would have happened." I nod, the thought just occurring to me, as well.

"Oh, crap. Yeah. Luckily, the glock never came up before he was banished."

"Luck it was." Eomer retorts with a wry chuckle. "In any case, I am grateful you are unharmed and safe, for the moment at least." I smile as his hand clasps my shoulder, as if he _needed_ to touch me to be _sure_ I was okay. I respond in kind and we head back into the main areas.

"Come on, Eomer. Let's help get this place ready before the battle." Eomer sighs, the weight of the impending war against Saruman settling again on his shoulders after what little lightness our conversation granted him.

"Yes. That would be wise. Time halts for no man." He replies. I swallow.

"That it doesn't. Come on!"

=#=#=#=#=

There was a _lot_ to do before...whatever happens next, so I set to work quickly and eagerly, making sure all the provisions were settled in the Glittering Caves and the defenses for the Caves the best they could be, given the little time and resources we had. I was nailing in a board to strengthen the Cave's door when the hammer missed, glancing off my thumb. Cursing, I bounced around in pain, sucking my wrist in an attempt to relieve the pain.

"What pains you, Milady?" Eomer's voice asks, with a touch of amusement. I immediately still and draw the appendage out of my mouth.

"My fricking thumb. Just- -ow- -hit it with a hammer." I explain ruefully, trying to flex my thumb but the movement hurt like cuss. Eomer laughs.

"I see. Perhaps I should assist you?" I sigh, grimacing as pain flares again.

"Probably be best, yeah. Ouch…" I barely refrain from shaking my hand around, as that would most assuredly not go over well. "I was just trying to nail in this board to shore up the door to the Caves. No sense leaving this wood to whatever's gonna happen to it." I explain, tapping the door to illustrate what I meant. Eomer nods, picking up the hammer and I just now realize that his shirt is rolled up to his elbows and it left me to enjoy his _very_ toned, muscular forearms. I flush a little and hold the board in place. Eomer's arms ripple with strength as he swings the hammer with precision. I can't help but stare for a second until I realize that I need to hand him another nail. I shake myself and oblige. Soon enough, with hardly any more distractions, we have the door in a great position, all things considered. All that's left now is to wait.

And that's the part that _kills_ me.

=#=#=#=#=

I pace the ramparts, passing a stolid, unmovable Eomer as I do so.

"Ro- -Winnie, please. Pacing does nothing but tire you out prematurely." He notes. It's more the use of my nick-name that halts me than the advice.

"That's the first time you've used my nickname." I muse, smiling. Eomer smirks wryly.

"I knew that would get your attention." I shake my head.

"You devious little turd." I retort, laughing. Eomer cocks a brow.

"I am assuming that is supposed to insult me." I playfully smack his arm.

"Hey! I'll have you know that works...90% of the time!" I protest, chuckling. Eomer laughs.

"It appears that I am part of the remaining 10%, then, Winnie." It seems he's testing the nickname out, seeing how he likes it, and I find _I_ quite like the way it sounds in his voice, far more than in Eothain's voice for some reason, though the second in command had been the first to use the offered nickname. I shake myself and dig out the only two small loaves of bread left in my satchel. What did it matter that Eomer of all people used my nickname?

"I see. Well, I suppose we should eat something." I mumble. "Keep our strength up for...for the battle." Where was this moody, depressing atmosphere coming from? Eomer wraps an arm around my shoulders and rubs a hand up my upper arm comfortingly and we eat in silence, each stopping after a moment, neither in the mood for food. What made me think to offer it?

"Rowena...you know you'll be safe in the caves." I frown, turning to face him.

"Eomer...do you think I'm gonna cower in the caves and pray the shieldmaidens aren't overwhelmed?" I continue on before he can reply. "I'm _not_ going to. I'm going to fight, if only to guard those in the caves, with or without assistance from the shieldmaidens." I say fiercely, unsure where this sudden bravery and defiance was coming from. Eomer merely smiles at me.

"I supposed as much, Rowena. Theoden would have no objections to your involvement in the battle in that capacity, as well, I feel certain." I smile.

"Good. Either way, I wouldn't have just stayed in the cave, but it's nice to know I won't be in trouble for it." I reply. Eomer laughs.

"I doubt, even if Theoden forbade you to fight, that your assistance would land you in trouble." I nod.

"Let's hope so."

=#=#=#=#=

From too slow to too fast, time ticked by and all of a sudden, it was overcast and nearly nighttime. I could hear a very distant rumbling noise, coming ever nearer. Everyone was murmuring that there were ten thousand Orcs coming to destroy Rohan's people. I come back to the ramparts, finding Eomer again, to avoid the whispers of hopelessness that threaten to break everyone's spirits.

"Do you feel as the others do, Rowena?" Eomer asks, standing beside me and our shoulders brush as we glance out into the plains. All is dark out there, with no sign of Orcs coming into view just yet. I frown, sighing heavily.

"When I'm in the Deep...the despair start to sink in, but...I think at least most of us will survive to see the dawn. Rohan will survive."

Eomer nods. "I feel the same, but...in truth, I can barely hold to hope. And there is precious little to hope for in the coming battle." I take his hand.

"As long as there are Rohirrim breathing in and defending the Deep, we will not fail. I have to hold to that hope." I confess, shivering slightly. Eomer sighs, leaning on his hands against the ramparts. Then, before Eomer could reply, there was a horn sounding in the silence, everyone freezing and waiting with bated breath as the horn sounds again.

"Open the gate!" I hear someone order and sprint over to find out what on earth was happening. I come close to the gate to see a troop of about a thousand or so soldiers approaching, looking as fair as Legolas and equally as entrancing. Elves, I realize with wonder. This would certainly help turn the tide of battle. Eomer and I exchange a glance, elation and relief eliciting a chuckle at this miraculous turn of events. Eomer and I run down the stairs to get closer just as Theoden comes forward, as well, eyes wide in wonder and near disbelief.

"How is this possible?" He breaths. The clear leader of the Elves steps forward, smiling gracefully.

"I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell." He replies, his voice clear and commanding, graceful and powerful. "An alliance one existed between Elves and Men. Long ago, we fought and died together. We've come to honor that allegiance, and to leave a legacy we can be proud of when we have all departed for the Undying Lands." Aragorn then comes forward, elation and recognition soon breaking out on his face. Aragorn performs the greeting Legolas gave me when we reunited in Edoras before hugging the Elf in relief, laughing. The elf chuckles, awkwardly patting Aragorn's back. Clearly, this guy wasn't used to how we Humans do things.

"You are most welcome!" Aragorn cheers, hand still on the Elf's shoulder before dropping it. Legolas approaches, and the Elf seems a bit more comfortable greeting him, I note.

"We are proud to fight beside men once more." The Elf says, and I can tell he genuinely means it as the small army of Elves turn in startling synchronization. It's beautiful and amazing to watch them. The Elves then filter into the ranks of Rohir and the scene is a powerful illustration of the aforementioned alliance. Eomer then takes my hand and leads me away. He stops just shy of the door to the Caves, where I'd be spending the battle guarding the innocents within. His eyes are worried, but not entirely hopeless, an unreadable expression softening his face as he cups my cheek tenderly. I suck in a breath. This was...what was going on?

"Rowena...I...if this is to be our final parting…I wish to...to..." His voice catches and he struggles to come up with words.

"Eomer..? I don't think this is our final goodbye. Please...you're starting to scare me." I reply, hand resting against his chest.

"That is not my intention, but…I feel...I have to..." Eomer's face flickers with indecision for but a moment before he draws me in, standing a little taller to kiss my fringe. I feel his moustache tickle my forehead and the skin prickles beneath his mouth in a good way. I let the moment drag on, as Eomer was in no hurry to withdraw and I was in no hurry to be rid of him. Finally, reluctantly, he slowly draws back. We both swallow, too emotional for words all of a sudden.

"I'll find you afterwards." I say softly, reaching up to hold his hands against my face for a moment longer. There was something Eomer was not saying or doing, but he seemed reluctant to do it. "You should probably go." I whisper. Eomer cracks a wry smirk.

"For that, I shall need my hands back." I just now realize that I was still holding his hands. I blush and release them, clearing my throat.

"Right. Um...see you soon, Eomer."

"Fare you well, Rowena." He retorts and is gone in a moment. I swallow.

What had that been about? I shake myself and take a breath as I head into the caves, closing and bolting the door as I do so. I had work to do; there was, sadly, no time to dwell on confusing Third Marshals and moustached kisses on fringes.

Dear God, I hope Eomer makes it through the battle.


	19. The Battle of Helm's Deep

**HERE IT IS; THE BATTLE OF HELM'S DEEP! HOPE I DO THIS** _ **AMAZING**_ **BATTLE JUSTICE AND THAT YOU ENJOY IT, AS ALWAYS. ALSO, THIS IS A) A BIT LONGER THAN NORMAL AND B) LATER THAN NORMAL BECAUSE I WANTED TO TAKE A LITTLE MORE TIME AND TRULY GET THIS CHAPTER AS GOOD AS I PHYSICALLY CAN BEFORE GIVING IT TO YOU ALL. HOPE IT PAYS OFF!**

 **Me and not You 1001, I WILL ONLY SAY THAT YOU SHOULD BE HAPPY WITH THIS CHAPTER.**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

For the first five minutes, all seems _too_ calm. I _know_ something's about to happen and hate that I am doomed to sit here and wait; I've never liked being idle when there was work to do. I take deep, calming breaths that don't calm me at all, and finger my glock nervously, hoping I wouldn't have to draw it. I then decide to leave my satchel on my person, so I could reload the glock as needed throughout...whatever happens tonight, whether or not I end up having to use the gun. I remove the clothes and adjust the ammo box so it's easier to get to, as well.

"Milady?" A little voice behind me asks. "Aren't you coming into the Caves?" I spin to see Frida standing there. I pale.

"Frida, what are you doing?!" I ask sternly, but as gently as my emotions allow. "You're not supposed to be here! We need to get you back to your mother. Come on." I tell her, taking her hand and leading her back to the main group, where Gertrude is searching desperately for what I can only assume is Frida. Sure enough, relief floods the woman's expression when she spots my charge, and she runs to scoop her daughter up. I turn and head back into the entrance tunnel, suddenly joined by a crowd of women I assume are the shieldmaidens. Once we're all standing at a crossroads nearest the entrance door, I turn to find them all looking at me. I frown. They expected _me_ to lead?

"Milady, what's the plan?" One woman asks, a sword swinging lazily at her hip as she shifts her weight between her legs anxiously. "Milord Eomer suggested we should yield to your judgement, for lack of others he knows well." I bite my lip. I needed to get a plan together. _Man_ , do I wish Eomer were here. He'd devise a brilliant plan, console my growing fears, kiss my fringe again... _whoa, back up, Rowena_. I swallow.

"Um…" I flounder for an idea before settling on one. "I...how many entrances to the Caves are there?" I ask, trying to sound more confident than I felt. The woman, Halwyn, I note dismally (I didn't want to endanger a woman who had so courteous to me), points to one tunnel and the one I used coming in here.

"These are the only two, Lady Rowena." I raise a hand.

"I insist on being called merely 'Rowena', please, ladies." I announce, buying a few precious seconds to come up with a plan. "Anyway, ah, we should split up into thirds as evenly as possible; a third to each entrance with the last in reserve...should...should the others fail." I go on, swallowing thickly at the unbidden thought that it _could_ happen. The women nod and move as I had bid them. I find command not as unpleasant as I had feared, though if any Orcs _were_ to break through…

I'd never forgive myself. I know so few of them...and yet...at Eomer's insistence, the responsibility of being their commander fell to me. Why had Eomer insisted _I_ lead them? Halwyn said something about a 'lack of others he knows well', but...why _me_? Surely, he is more familiar with other women?

So…why me of all people? Shaking myself, I check the magazine and find it hardly taxed. I frown. I suppose there were not as many Wargs pursuing us as I had originally thought. Nevertheless, I am grateful and replace the magazine, returning it to the holster until it was needed.

=#=#=#=#=

The sounds of battle rage on in the background and all I can do is wait. It _kills_ me! I have to sit here, braiding my hair, waiting for- -frick! That was the door! I tie off the ribbon holding my hair, take a breath and prepare to draw the gun as I motion the women around me to silence. That done, I direct groups of them to hide behind columns and draw their swords with hand motions as I draw my gun. Creeping forward, I prepare to round the last corner before the offenders were on top of us with a handful of women leftover when all columns hid a shieldmaiden. I take a breath, pull the hammer back, and hold up three fingers, counting down quickly before leaping out and firing a series of shots into the fifty or so Orcs that came into sight.

The effect was largely the same as on the field during the Warg attack. These Orcs knew nothing of my gun, nor the volume the shot presented in such an inclosed space.

To be honest, the volume set my ears ringing and everyone cringing. The second shot, fired reluctantly, earned (again) the same result as last time, kicking everyone back into action.

"I'm heading out!" I call back. "I don't want to deafen everyone here by continuing to shoot inside the caves." Halwyn nods, slicing an Orc's head clean off. I risk one last shot as I leave and am abruptly subjected to rain. Great. I blink water from my eyes and fire repeatedly at the advancing Orcs, noticing that more and more of them are talking to each other and pointing to me, or, more accurately, the weapon I held. Setting my jaw determinately, I keep firing.

That is, until one Orc somehow gets behind me and shoves me hard against a nearby wall. I barely hold onto my gun as the Orc grabs for it, holding me up by the throat and attempting to wrest the firearm from my hand. Luckily, I had managed to keep the gun pointed at the thing's head and so dispatched it rather quickly. Gulping in air like I'd been drowning, I look up to see Gimli covering me while I retrieved my stolen breath.

"Th-thanks." I mumble. He nods.

"Recovered?" I nod, readying my gun.

"Yeah." I reply, shaking myself and moving with Gimli out a little more and firing out at random into the crowing Orcs, especially those about to kill Elves or Rohirrim. _Think I'm getting the hang of this battle thing_ , I note inwardly, firing a couple more rounds into the night. I then end up, somehow, on the ramparts I'd been pacing not an hour ago, it seems. I then move a bit closer to the Caves, remembering what I'd told Eomer. I stand near the entrance, but at a point where I could still see over the ramparts.

I look over and notice that a group of Orcs are carrying something that looks suspiciously like a bomb toward some point in the wall I stand on. Then, on the path left through the horde, a single Orc comes sprinting toward the place the others had gone.

I frown, taking a breath, and sighting that one Orc. Whatever they were doing...it was- -

 _Click. Click. Click._ I blanch. My glock had finally run out of bullets! _How_?! Frick, _frick_ , _**frick**_!

"What is i- -" Gimli tries to ask, but just as he starts, there is a huge _boom_ and we are sent flying backwards. I slam into a corner of the wall starting the tunnel to the Caves from the ramparts. A chunk of stone glances off my chest and the breath leaves me in a rush and I collapse. Through the haze of agony I'm in, I distantly hear Theoden calling a retreat to the Deep. When I come to my senses again, I see that leader Elf guy fighting off a crap-ton of Orcs all alone to cover his troops' retreat. Starting to panic, I grab my ammo box out of the satchel and begin loading the gun. Gimli automatically starts covering me again, but soon runs out of enemies and leaps over the new end to the ramparts into the waiting horde below, yelling out some Dwarvish battle cry or something. I finish loading the gun, settle the box back in my satchel, cock the gun, and stand practically in one movement, slamming the cover back over the satchel and fumbling to get the small belts that kept it closed secured before aiming at the Orcs surrounding the Elven leader. The orc about to deliver the final blow lands just behind me, shot point-blank in the face, as I take on the Elf's defense. Firing openly into the Orcs' midst, I run closer, leaping over the surprisingly short dent in the wall, and end up catching the guy as Aragorn approaches worriedly.

"Haldir…" He whispers. The Elf (Haldir, I'm assuming his name is) took a stab in the hip area that could have hit his kidneys, and has a few gashes and rents in his armor, with one particularly deep, nasty one across his back. He is also nearly unconscious. _Great_. I haul him upright and Aragorn looks at me, asking what I was doing without words as I place the glock in its holster.

"I'm getting him to the Caves. The healers there can help." I explain. Aragorn nods in mute thanks as I leave. "Come on, Haldir. Just stay with me." I mumble. "Just a little further to the caves, then the healers will help you." He nods blearily, head lilting to the side almost drunkenly. "No, no, no! Just a few more steps. Come on, buddy!" I cry, alarmed. I thought Elves withstood a _lot_ of punishment. I then squeeze us through what's left of the door to the caves, surrendering the elf to a few women within. "Take him to the healers, please. I need to get back out there." I explain shortly. The women nod. I take that as dismissal and leave, grabbing my gun, and- -AGH!

Those cheating little- -ow...I grimace, fingering the arrow sprouting from my left shoulder. Thankfully, that wasn't my dominant arm and as such I could still fire the glock.

I lean against the wall I'd hit earlier, firing into the hordes in defense of the few Elves remaining in Aragorn's charge. He seemed to have gained a second wind, swinging his mighty sword back and forth expertly, dispatching multiple Orcs with deadly precision. Even with his expertise, and my backup, he and his men were nearly overwhelmed as they retreat. Reluctantly, I break the arrow off close to my shoulder so the shaft wouldn't be in the way. Pain lances once again through my shoulder and I bite off a scream of agony.

Suddenly, I hear Gimli protesting as Legolas and another Elf literally drag him from the battlefield. I sigh in slight exasperation; why does _everyone_ here value this gory nightmare of war and death? They're all crazy! I'd much rather be a simple healer in the Cave- -no, that's not quite true, but I don't take the pleasure they do in battle. I simply know I'm far too stubborn for my own good and would never miss out on a chance to get in on the action. Cursing the pain in my shoulder and the Orc that put it there, I continue firing, covering as many troops (Elf and Rohir alike) as I possibly could. There are few Orcs that can get close to me due to the fragmented and broken wall and the fact that the ones that tried were soon sent to whatever equivalent of Hell this place has. I eventually lean against the doorpost to the Caves during a slight lull as the fighting moves elsewhere.

"Ma'am, you're hurt!" A woman cries. I shake my head and end up grimacing as my shoulder betrays me. My hand flies almost in spite of myself to the wound. The woman is supporting me, but I draw carefully away, managing not to move my shoulder in the process.

"I'm sorry, but I can walk." I explain shortly, hissing as I sat down with other men and women being tended. Somewhat surprisingly, I am next to Haldir, who is patiently bearing a healer's probing hands. I smile in greeting as my healer examines the arrow wound. "Didn't quite get out unscathed." I muse, nodding to my shoulder. He nods.

"Hardly surprising, milady, considering that this is war and there are many assailants." He points out, with a smirk. I smile and then the healer retrieves bandages and faces me with a grim expression.

"Now comes the time to draw the rest of that arrow out, milady." She says matter-of-factly, lips pursed. "I will not lie to you; this will be painful. I must- -"

"Please, ma'am, just get it out." I interject, holding up a hand to forestall the explanation. "The faster, the better, right?" I ask, taking on a gentler tone. The woman nods, squares her shoulders as I take a breath.

"Ready?" She asks, fingers clasping the little that remains of the shaft.I nod, fists clenching in anticipation. She then rips the arrow as carefully and gently, yet as swiftly, as possible. I unleash a screech of agony through my clenched teeth. "Diabhal é, Gortaítear go!" I cry, resorting to my native tongue in my pain. "Sorry, but good _God_ , that hurt!" The woman cracks a smile, holding the arrow remnant up for me to see.

"I did warn you. This is a fairly barbed arrow, milady. What was it you said?" I blush a little; I didn't curse often and when I did, it was usually in gaelic.

"Just a few choice words in my land's tongue." I explain shortly, trying to move my shoulder without success (or without a crap-ton of pain). She nods.

"So, the rumours are true, then?" She asks. I nod as she swiftly wraps my shoulder and ties off the clean linen strips neatly with a practiced hand. I then stand, exhaling to gather my courage for what I was about to do.

"There are sufficient shieldmaidens to guard the Caves, right?" I ask. The woman pales.

"Y-yes, but...but milady, please. You only just got that wound treated." I draw my gun, grinning in what was probably a pretty wild way at the unfortunate woman.

"So? I'm still going. I need to help settle the score before Rohan is lost and the Elves' assistance goes to waste." And with that, I am gone, taking care not to move my shoulder if it could be avoided. I dimly note that it is dawn, and that the main action is over by the Deep itself and going up to the gates I'd ridden in not a few hours earlier.

I ran along the ramparts, leaping over the break again, making my way over bodies toward the fighting. Arriving at the Deep, it occurs to me that from here on out, I would have to fight my way- -what in the heck?! What is Theoden doing?!

There is a nearly deafening blast of a horn, and out comes what's left of the Rohirrim, I'm assuming, desperately fighting off the Orcs trying to burst through the gates. I fire into that crowd, covering the Orcs the Rohirrim can't handle and soon they are surrounded.

This won't end well, will it? I then happen to (AKA an Orc made me with a hard slap) spin around and I notice that a contingent of Orcs are heading toward the Caves while the main force continues to assault the Rohirrim. I grit my teeth, not even looking as I aim and kill the Orc that had slapped me as I run toward the Caves. Gimli joins me and I grin as wildly at him as he does at me while we prepare for battle; him fingering his ax, me reloading my gun despite using less than a magazine up til now.

Once that's done, we greet the frontrunners with gun and ax. I step closer to the Caves, intent on covering what Gimli could not while watching his back.

"I'm protecting the Caves, Gimli. You don't need to worry about letting any slip through." I call.

"Lassie, if you think- -agh!- -if you think I am gonna let a single Orc slip by my ax unpunished, you'd be- -ah- -mistaken!" He yells back, slamming his ax into Orcs as he spoke, muttering numbers under his breath. I frown, firing at a pair sneaking up behind- -Hoh-ley crap! That is a _lot_ of riders! Where on- - _Gandalf_?! What the _frick_?! Guess that's where he went. Grinning wildly, relief flooding my veins, I resolve to keep the Orcs at bay and to make sure there were _no_ survivors. No sense letting an Orc report about my gun to the bad guys. Once that's done, I look up to find myself in the gateway, watching as the last contingent of Orcs flee to the woods. I start making my way over and then the trees _move_! I unleash a startled shriek, and stumble backwards, slipping over a body and falling on another. Without bothering to look, I stand up, but the trees are back to still and I am left to wonder…

What the _frick_ was that?!


	20. And Then to Isengard

**BEFORE WE BEGIN, I MUST ACKNOWLEDGE A FAITHFUL REVIEWER, Me and not You 1001. THEY ARE A WONDERFUL BRIGHTENER TO MY DAY. THEY ALWAYS GIVE ME AMAZING FEEDBACK THAT HONESTLY GETS ME JAZZED TO WRITE! PLEASE SUPPORT THEM AND THEIR STORY, 'A Penny for Your Thoughts'. I'VE ONLY BEGUN TO READ IT, BUT IT IS WORTH A LOOK, BELIEVE ME. ANYWAY, PLEASE ENJOY!**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

WIthin minutes, I am in the stables and mounting Gremund. I was unsure of if I had saddled him right, but he wasn't protesting, so I guess it's okay for now as I direct him out of the gates. On the way, I ponder just what the frick I saw.

When I was walking up, I saw those trees moving without wind, I swear. But, when I tripped and came back up...they were still. Did I even see that? Or was it the exhaustion and nerves finally crashing down on me without adrenaline to keep them at bay for a while?

Regardless...Gandalf has noticed my approach.

"What was that?" I ask stupidly, eyes locked on to the forest, as if I could see it move again. I wanted to, to prove that I wasn't insane or loopy or...or whatever. "Am I insane or did the trees just... _eat_ the Orcs?" I ask. Gandalf laughs.

"That, my dear, is the _huorns_ of Fangorn Forest protecting that which is theirs." I blink.

"The who, the where, the what?" He laughs again.

"Rowena, there are a great many things in Arda that will be a shock quite equal to that which brought you here. This is, arguably, the least shocking of which." I frown.

"How did- -did Aragorn tell you I was struck by lightning?" Gandalf shakes his head, an amused twinkle in his eyes.

"I simply read what your countenance and appearance told me of yourself." He replies. "For instance, I can tell your intent in journeying out from your post at the Caves is not to ascertain whether or not the Huorn's work was real or if you were seeing things."

"Than what is it?" I ask, crossing my arms.

"It is to see if your…" Gandalf pauses, that annoying knowing, amused gleam in his kind blue-grey eyes. "Friend," He says with a strange hesitation in his voice, as if he'd nearly said something else. "The Third Marshall, and Heir of Rohan." I blush, mind wandering to the feeling of his lips against my fringe. I shake myself out of the reverie and pretend to be offended.

"How on earth could you have known that, if it is true?" I ask mock-testily. Gandalf takes it in stride. _How can he read me like that? He's even better than Eomer._ I note inwardly.

"You are an open book, my child. Now, we have counsel to take and I do not wish to keep you from Eomer much longer; he seems intent on seeing you again." The fringe-kiss flashes in my head again and I blush as I lead Gremund behind Gandalf's lovely white horse. There's something almost unnatural about that horse. "This is Shadowfax, one of a rare breed; you could not ask for a finer horse." Of _course_ the magic guy can still read me, even when not looking directly at me. I nod, suddenly noticing a difference other than breeding in the horses.

"Is that why you ride without tack and saddle?" I ask, wondering where- -oh. RIght. I'm in _Rohan_. Land of the Horse-Lords. Doubtless I heard that somewhere. Gandalf chuckles.

"It seems you are not without your own talents, Rowena. Now come, let us seek Theoden and the others for the counsel."

"'Us'?" I repeat. "You want me there?" I ask. Gandalf nods.

"It's about time you were more involved in matters, Rowena. What happens in Arda affects you now, as well." I nod, absently rubbing my shoulder.

"No need to tell me twice. My shoulder reminds me enough as is. And...Arda?" I ask. "What's that?" Gandalf laughs.

"Middle-Earth, to give it it's Common title. Arda is what the Elves call this land, shaped by the Valar." I nod, frowning in slight confusion.

"'Valar'?" Gandalf seems to understand that I wouldn't ask if I already knew and that I was genuinely curious about this.

"They are the closest thing Middle-Earth has to deities or gods. They, of course, summoned you here." I blink.

"Wanna run that by me again?" I ask. Gandalf, again, seems to be perfectly okay talking to someone about things it's painfully obvious someone in Middle-Earth should and do (generally speaking) know.

"The Valar, in times long since lost to the ages, shaped this world and bestowed their created peoples upon it to live and populate the land they created. Now, for reasons I cannot yet fathom or guess, you have been called to Middle-Earth. The lightning simply acted on the Valar's wishes." I frown.

"But if they are _here_ , then how in the bloody ifreann could they summon me from _my_ world." Gandalf smiles.

"They are mysterious and powerful, wise and benevolent. None can say why they decide to act as they do, not even in hindsight. They did, however, tell me to keep an eye out for the 'marked traveler with a powerful weapon'. I hardly know what they mean by 'marked', but I can plainly see that you are the one of whom the Valar spoke." I nod. Then decide to pull up my left sleeve a little. I didn't like showing off the scars (they made me feel like I'm outside looking in on Middle-Earth), but it would answer his question. He nods. "That settles that."

"But...why would they summon _me_?" I ask. "What could they possibly want with me?" Gandalf frowns in thought.

"That remains to be seen, I suppose." I huff.

"Helpful." I grumble under my breath. Why would _I_ be the one the Valar wanted in Middle-Earth? I hardly know what I'm doing or how I got so wrapped up and involved in this war going on. We soon arrive at the gates and I slip away to get Gremund out of the saddle I'd all but surely put on wrong somehow. My thoughts turn once again to that blasted Third Marshall. Where was he? Gandalf made it seem like he was fine and alive, but...why haven't I seen him yet? Surely, he wasn't too badly injured, right? As these thoughts rang in my head in repeat, I found myself suddenly hoisted in the air and spun a few times, a laughter I've only heard a few times filling my ears, causing me to laugh, as well. The man I now see as Eomer puts me down and I spin, intent on retu- -wait...what n the…

He's...we're kissing?! Huh. Guess that's what he _wanted_ to do before the battle, but held himself back. I find myself kissing him back. It feels...right, in a way. I know we hardly know each other, but...it feels good.

"Forgive me." Eomer whispers, drawing away. I smirk.

"What for?" I say, kissing him again. This feels too good to stop now.

"We hardly know each other and…"

"Eomer...all I know is that this is _way_ better than my first kiss." I interject, chuckling. Eomer, however, eyes me with a strange, fierce light in his eyes.

"Who had that honor?" He asks in what was supposed to be a polite, casual tone, but his eyes and body language speak louder than words. "Eothain? Aragorn?" I suddenly know what's making him so testy and angry; jealousy. The revelation is so unexpected and unusual I can't help but laugh. I haven't had a lot of experience with this, it seems.

"Well, no!" I explain in a moment. "Sorry, it's just...I wasn't expecting to make you jealous. I shouldn't have laughed. I'm really sorry. It was no one in Middle-Earth." I explain, calming myself. Poor Eomer looked insulted and I hadn't meant to cause that look. "It was a man named Jacob and it was _one_ date. First date for both of us and it ended with us at a coffee shop and he spilled it all over me when he leaned across the table to awkwardly try and kiss me. The kiss could barely be called that; I leapt up a second later with hot coffee all over my lap." I recall, laughing. "I hardly even count it as a first kiss, to be honest. Believe me, there is _no_ cause for jealousy." I say, waving away his concerned expression with a smile. His eyes and posture lighten and ease up.

"Forgive me, I…" I nudge his shoulder.

"It's alright. I kinda think it's sweet you're already possessive of me." I tease. Eomer opens his mouth to reply, but then Eothain find us.

"Pardon the intrusion, Marshall, but Theoden King requests your presence and Gandalf requests Rowena's." I then groan, remembering that Gandalf had asked me to come to the counsel. That cock-blocking wizard. Eomer sighs, thanks Eothain, and tells his second-in-command that we'd be along shortly. As soon as he's out of earshot, he turns to me.

"You are not...adverse to us becoming…"

"A couple?" I ask, smiling. "No. Not really." I say as we head in the direction of the Deep. Eomer frowns at me.

"There is something troubling you about..." He fishes for the right words, hand flitting back and forth. "Us?" He finally says. I sigh.

"Only the pacing, really. But even that isn't a huge deal." I confess. "I'm just...I don't…" It's my turn to wave my hand around as if to fish the words from thin air. "I am not ready to be...involved with anyone. In a physical way." My cheeks are burning as Eomer turns to me, eyes hurt and confused.

"Have I said or done something that made you think I would...that I would dishonor our relationship in that way out of wedlock?" He asks. I blanch. He sounds just like a kid, wondering why something wasn't happening the way he wanted it to. I swallow.

"Oh, geez, Eomer! No, no, no! Nothing you have said or done has led me to that conclusion." I sooth, hand on his shoulder. Where in the world did he get that idea?

"Then...what made you think I wanted...intercourse?" I groan.

"Well...in my world...people don't...typically wait until wedlock to...to um, have sex, so...that's what I'm used to. I'm sorry. I know it was stupid to assume, but…" He looks relieved.

"No, I misunderstood!" He interjects. "It seems we failed to convey what we meant properly to each other." He then clears his throat and I swear his cheeks redden a little. "Typically, here, couples wait, but...there are occassions. Of course, they marry soon after, but it is an infrequent occurrence." I nod, strangely relieved.

"Thank god. Back home, I was a little weird to most people." Eomer takes my hand.

"Weird or not, I enjoy your company." I grin back at him.

"I'm glad, cus you're stuck with me."

"Good. I never want to let go." He replies, pulling me a little closer to him before we arrive at the Deep and we take a step apart, agreeing without needing to speak that for right now, it's best we don't announce this...whatever this is between Eomer and I. For now, we enjoy holding hands and ignoring the weird looks we're getting.

We find Theoden, Gandalf, Hama, a few other guys I assume are Captains or Marshalls waiting for us in the main area of where the riders had come out of the great fortress behind the wall now broken. It seems we are a tad late and everyone halts speaking as we seat ourselves at the counsel table.

"Ah, there you two are. I sent Eothain for fear you had been...waylaid." Gandalf muses innocently, a twinkle in his eyes betraying his real meaning. I stick my tongue at him.

"We weren't. We were just talking." I tell him. Not a lie. Just an omission of things better left unspoken at present. Gandalf smirked knowingly (which flamed my cheeks and flared my irritation) and turned to Theoden.

"As I was saying, Theoden King, to Isengard I must go." I put a hand up as if I were in school and asking a question. "Yes, Rowena?" He asks.

"Isengard is, like, the belly of the beast, right? Where the bad guys are?" Gandalf shakes his head.

"Not the main one, no. Sadly, it is home to a traitor now defeated. Saruman may have nearly destroyed Rohan, but I daresay he is in more dire straights than the survivors here are at present. I must speak with him."

"Why?" I ask.

"He knows many of the Enemy's moves, planned and still preventable, if we are swift." He then looks at me strangely, a gently piercing, reading gaze studying me. "I believe it would do you good to come with me, Rowena. If you are to be a resident of Middle-Earth- -and I believe you are truly to stay here- -you must learn more about what is happening. We will return to Edoras two days after the full moon." I can see what he means, and even acknowledge the wisdom in the advice, but I don't like the idea of confronting an enemy wizard on his home turf. Nevertheless, I nod. Eomer takes my hand under the table in resolute comfort. I squeeze it to acknowledge the gesture.

"Then I will go, as well." Eomer says, then turns to his uncle. "Will you come with us, uncle?" Theoden considers this for a moment.

"In the dark hour before dawn I doubted, but we will not part now. I will come with you both, if that is your counsel, Gandalf." The white wizard nods.

"It is. Since Saruman has done you great injury, it would be fitting for you to be there. But how soon and how swiftly can you ride?" The Lord of the Mark ponders this for a moment.

"My men are weary with battle and I am weary also, for I have fought hard and slept little. Alas that this old age is not feigned or due only to the whisperings of Wormtongue. It is an ill no healer can fully cure, not even Gandalf." The wizard nods.

"Let all who are to ride with me rest now." Gandalf advices. "We will journey under the shadow of evening. It is as well; for it is my counsel that our comings and goings should be as secret as may be, henceforth. But do not command many men to go with you, Theoden. We go to a parley, not to a fight."

=#=#=#=#=

And so it was that, less than hour later, that I was shown to a small corner bedroom by Eomer, hand in hand.

"We ride in a mere few hours. I leave you to your rest." He says gently, pulling a stray strand of hair from my face. I smile.

"You need rest, as well." I muse. He sighs.

"Unfortunately, I must aid the uninjured and able-bodied in honoring the dead." I swallow thickly. There had been far too many.

"I'm sorry it has to be done." Eomer sighs heavily.

"These things happen in war, Rowena." I nod.

"I know." With that, he is gone. I feel my lip trembling slightly as I shakily take off my blood-stained and rain-stiffened wine red tunic that was hardly recognizable, but not too tattered, thank God. I grimace as my bad shoulder flares when I lay down. Soon enough, exhaustion takes me and I fall asleep.

=#=#=#=#=

"My dear, it is time for us to ride to Isengard." A voice calls, shaking my shoulder. Unfortunately, it is my bad shoulder and I come awake with a bark of pain. Eomer withdraws from my side and looks frightened.

"Sorry." I mumble, sitting up and trying not to groan and wince as the pain slowly recedes, leaving a dull ache in its wake. "I got hit by an Orc arrow in that shoulder. No major damage, but it hurts like frick." I explain, standing up as I remember I'd left my- -oh. Eomer somehow has my other available outfit in his other hand, the one that hadn't shaken me.

"Halwyn saw you remove these clothes from the satchel and thought it wise to have them brought here." I nod.

"Send her my thanks, please." I tell him, nodding not-so-subtly to the door with a smile. He gets the hint, bows, and leaves. I chuckle as I pull the clothes on.

Eomer really is a great man. I think I am in love.

Now. To Isengard and whatever awaits us. There's _no_ way this could go wrong, right?


	21. On the Road Again

**I FEEL THAT IT IS UNFAIR TO NOT GIVE REPRESENTATION AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO THE OTHER FAITHFUL REVIEWERS, Yasminasfeir1, Scylla's Revenge, AND A PAIR OF GUESTS BY THE NAME OF Jo AND Labaguette. YOU ALL MAKE WRITING SSSOOO MUCH FUNNER, DUE TO THE FACT THAT I GET TO HEAR YOUR FEEDBACK. IT'S ALWAYS SUPER ENCOURAGING TO KNOW THAT PEOPLE LOVE A STORY YOU PUT A LOT OF EFFORT AND TIME INTO. GENUINELY MAKES MY DAY. HONESTLY, IT DOES.**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

The ride was uneventful and quickly getting darker. No one seemed to want to talk, and that I understand. Gandalf advised that our journey should be as secretive as possible, after all. Eomer rides beside me and we can't stop glancing at each other and smirking. Whatever it is that we are right now...I like it a lot. There was no pressure to move faster than we wished to or do something we don't want to do. We were in clear agreement on our boundaries and would respect them until the wedding night, if that's how this all ends.

If we survive long enough to get married. I shake myself out of my thoughts and focus. We were halting at the edge of the forest and I didn't see why. Suddenly, I saw Gandalf rising on unconcerned. So we (Eomer and I, that is) followed him, and the rest came after, some reluctantly, some without hesitation, like Theoden. The King seemed to trust Gandalf enough that he would enter the forest after the wizard, even when others weren't inclined to do so. Eomer and I were of a similar mindset, riding after Gandalf without so much as a backward glance to see if we were followed. The forest was still lit enough for us to see in the dusk, but that light fades rather quickly. Up ahead I hear Gimli and Legolas (once again sharing a horse) talking about the woods. Legolas seemed to want to stop and admire the views, but the dwarf was urging his companion to continue on. He seemed almost afraid of the woods.

"Gimli, it's fine. This wood is beautiful, in its own way, I think. Although, there is a strange...something in the air."

"That would be the huorns' anger at the ransacking of the forest and the resurgence of the Orcs in their lands." Gandalf replies. I nod.

"This place is incredible." I mumble, looking around.

"It is rather intriguing. I see now why the legends warned travelers and wanderers to be wary of entering this place." Eomer adds, nodding. We ride on in silence, except for Legolas and Gimli, who goes on and on about the Caves. I smile. It was a new side of the dwarf that had not revealed itself to me until now.

"Lassie, you can verify my tale, can you not?" He asks eagerly halfway through his description. I purse my lips.

"Not really. I mean, they were gorgeous, but I did not have as thorough a tour of them as you seem to have had. I was only there briefly and when I was, only as far as my business took me." I explain. "What I saw was up to Gimli's description, though." Gimli nods and the pair strike a deal that if they survive, they would go back to both Fangorn Forest and to the Glittering Caves and see if the other's love of the two places was earned or not. I look at Eomer and laugh as we continue riding at an easy but good pace.

"There are eyes!" Legolas cries suddenly. I whirl my head around (grimacing when the movement pulls on my shoulder) and find that there were indeed eyes watching us. Deep, strong eyes that seemed to be reading more than our hair color and body language. I shiver a little under their gaze. "I have never seen such eyes before." He notes like someone entranced and hardly in control of themselves.

"Legolas!" I hiss, even as Gimli protests the elf wheeling their horse around to follow the eyes. "No!" Gandalf then turns, as well.

"Stay, Legolas Greenleaf!" He barks. "Do not go back into the wood, not yet! Now is not your time." Even as Gandalf finished speaking and Legolas returned, out from the woods came three...I'm not entirely sure how to describe them. They look like a kind of blend between man and tree, walking unhurriedly out to see us, but no further. It's unlike anything I've ever seen and I am unsure if I am the only one to have seen it.

"Gandalf?" I ask, nodding toward it. He looks and smiles. There is then the sound like clear, small horns being blown as the three beings cup their many-fingered hands to their mouths. The call (it's obvious that that's what it was) was answered and the three things were joined by many of the same species, each as unique as one human is from one another; clearly the same species, but vastly different in looks, one from another. Eomer and Theoden and the few Rohirrim with us put hands to their sword hilts, gasping aloud in awe and wonder. I myself am rendered speechless and awestruck.

"You need no weapons." Gandalf informs us. "They are not enemies, merely herdsmen. In fact, they are not concerned with us at all." Theoden then looks at Gandalf incredulously.

"'Herdsmen'?" He asks. "Where are their flocks?"

"And what are they, Gandalf?" I ask, accidentally interjecting on Theoden, but no one seems to notice. "You seem to have already met them."

"They are the Ents of Fanghorn Forest, sheppards of the trees." Gandalf replies. "Theoden and those of Rohan here should know them, as well, or has their songs and legends been forgotten, and the name in your tongue of 'Entwood' thought to be given in idle fancy? Nay, Theoden. To them, you are but the passing tale; all the years between Eorl the Young and Theoden the Old are little count to them, and all the deeds of your house a small matter." Theoden frowns, silent for several moments. Eomer, too, sits silent and thoughtful.

"The Ents were really interesting to look at, at any rate." I muse off-handedly. I had never been one to stand silence in the middle of a conversation for very long. Gandalf looks amusedly at me while we wait for someone to reply.

"They were indeed, Rowena." Theoden replies slowly. "Ents. Out of the shadow of legend I begin a little to understand the marvel of the trees, I think. I have lived to see strange days. Songs we have that tell of these things, but we are forgetting them, teaching them to our children only as a careless custom. And now the songs have come down among us and walk visible under the sun." Beside me, Eomer lets his uncle do the talking, nodding in agreement at various points.

"You should be glad, Theoden King." Gandalf replies. "For not only is the life of Men endangered, but the life of those things which you have deemed the matter of legend." I frown.

"How is that supposed to make him happy?" I ask before I can stop myself. Gandalf gives me a look that reminds me so much of my Seanathair (Grandfather), that I felt a twinge of hurt in my chest. He had been an amazing granddad and I miss him every now and again. Suddenly, I see a big resemblance between the two men that's hard to ignore. I fall silent.

"He is not without allies, even if he knows them not." Gandalf replies. I nod as Theoden sighs.

"Yet also I should be sad." He remarks. "For however the war ends, may it not be that much that was fair and wonderful shall pass for ever out of Middle-Earth?"

"It may." Gandalf replies. Quite a sobering thought. "The evil of Sauron cannot be wholly cured, nor made as if it had not been. But to such days we are doomed. Let us now go on with the journey we have begun." And so we do, left to our own thoughts.

For me, I can't help but think of my grandad, for the first time in years. When I was eight, he had been sickening, and then he was gone. I hardly remember him now, sadly. What I do remember strikes me as very similar to Gandalf; wise, but not aloof to others. Realistic, but not pessimistic. In general, a nice guy to hang around. What made this sudden revelation happen, I don't really know. I like it, though. Seanathair was a great guy. Gandalf is a great guy- -er, Wizard- -, as well.

"You're giving Gandalf a strange look." Eomer notes softly. He's smiling at me and I grin back.

"Oh, it's nothing. I was just thinking that Gandalf reminds me of my Seanathair, my grandfather."

"'Seanathair'?" Eomer asks, testing the word out. I nod.

"It is Scotland's native tongue's word for 'grandfather." I explain.

"And what would the word for 'uncle' be?" He asks. I think for a moment. It had been a while since I used gaelic for anything but cursing.

"Uncail." I reply. He frowns.

"Interesting." I chuckle.

"Not every word can be as fun to say as 'Seanathair', Eomer." I tease. "By the way, you would be called Theoden's 'nia'." I add. He smirks.

"Sounds a little feminine." I shrug.

"I didn't make the language." I muse and we ride on in companionable silence. In the twilight, we hear crows as they descend on the carnage. I grimace. I'd never liked crows. I just...they kinda freaked me out.

"The carrion will be busy on the battlefield." Eomer mutters. I nod.

"They must be having a feast." By now, the moon is just coming up.

"They always do, after a battle." I nod, frowning in distaste. It was true, no matter how unsettled it made me.

"What is it that troubles you?" Eomer asks. I hadn't realized I was still frowning.

"In plays meant to be creepy in my land, they use crows to set the scene. I guess that's why the carrion birds unsettle me." I explain. Eomer nods.

"They have crows in cages?" I smile.

"Something like that. It's hard to explain." I reply. He nods. Then notices that the creek is sluggish and tiny.

"This is become a dreary place." He muses grimly. "What sickness has befallen the river?"

"This is a river?" I ask. "I'd hardly call this a creek." Eomer nods.

"Once, it was a mighty river. I wonder what has happened. Many fair things Saruman has destroyed. Has he devoured the springs of Isen, too?"

"So it would seem." Gandalf replies. Theoden looks around and grimaces.

"Alas!" He cries. "Must we pass this way, where carrion-beasts devour so many Riders of the Mark?" Gandalf then points to a mound surrounded by many, many spears.

"Here lie all the Men of the Mark that fell near this place." Gandalf says sadly.

"Here let them rest." Eomer replies, sighing heavily. "And when their spears have rotted and rusted, long stil may they stand guard over the Fords of Isen." I reach over and pat his shoulder comfortingly. I didn't care if people draw the (accurate) conclusion that we are more than mere friends. He was hurt, as a good leader should be, by any loss, even if he didn't know these people. We rode on, harder now, across a large open pathway of sorts beside a highway-ish thing. The wayside was better ground to ride over than the actual road, so that's what we did. By midnight, Eomer told me we were about five leagues beyond the fords with the mound of fallen Rohir. We're making great progress.

"The more I hear of your world, the more I wish to visit it." I can't help but laugh at the seemingly random comment.

"Oh, man. Um...it would be very...disorienting for you, I'm afraid, darling." I reply. "There is technology that does not exist here and would be so different from what you're used to, you'd be overwhelmed." Eomer cocks his head.

"Oh? Pray tell. I am most intrigued." I frown, thinking of what to tell him.

"Um…for one thing, there are vehicles that run on a chemical called methane. They don't need horses to move at great speeds and they have lights that shine out in darkness to allow the driver to continue driving after dark without worrying about a torch going out." I say after a moment, fumbling a little for words as I go along. "They have devices called radios that produce songs and music, ah, sent out on a kind of signal that radios can pick up and play out loud."

"The driver can control which songs and when they come out of this device?" Eomer asks. I nod.

"Kinda. With little buttons on it." He chuckles.

"I must admit, it is a trifle confusing and certainly unusual. I enjoyed it, however. Did you ever drive one of these machines?"

"Yep! I drove a somewhat small one that could hold four people. It was painted green, called a truck, and had a storage space off the back. I put a backpack I used for my schoolbooks in there unless it was raining or snowing." I reply. He smiles.

"I would like to see these machines." I chuckle.

"Yeah. They are called cars and would be so helpful here." I reply. "We could probably have been at Isengard by now if we were driving one." His eyes widen.

"Indeed?" He asks. "A mighty feat, indeed. Isengard lays fifteen leagues away, at least." I frown.

"How far is a league? Is it miles? Feet? Inches?" Eomer considers this for a moment.

"I have heard it calculated as the distance a man can walk in an hour." I nod, running through how long that would be in miles.

"So...I'd guess roughly three miles. Maybe three and a half." I then scrunch my eyes closed as I try and use math to convert fifteen leagues into miles. "So Isengard is...um...like, 52 miles away." Eomer laughs.

"Somehow, it seems less of a distance when presented in miles." I frown.

"I guess." I then stifle a yawn even as Gandalf calls for a halt. Eomer looks up and spots something that makes him frown. I look up cock my head at the sight of a large column of steam, thicker than any I'd ever seen, intermingling with smoke.

"What do you make of that, Gandalf?" Aragorn asks worriedly, nodding to the plumes. "One would say all of the Wizard's Vale is burning." He adds. Gandalf frowns, but Eomer replies first.

"There is ever a fume above the valley these days." He muses sourly. "But I have never seen aught like this before. These are mainly steams, not smokes. Saruman is brewing some devilry to greet us. Maybe he is boiling all the waters of Isen and that is why the river is dry." He goes on. I frown.

"Kinda pointless speculating without more data, at least. If I were to guess, I'd say fires were just put out or something similar, but even that wouldn't account for _that_ much steam and smoke." Gandalf grins at me, once more bringing to mind Seanathair with his gentle, proud smile.

"How remarkably perceptive you are, my dear. In any case, we must wait until tomorrow to see what he is doing. Now let us take a rest, if we can." And so, we dismounted our tired steeds and tied them to a fallen log that fortunately had many knots and broken-off branches which were perfect for the reins. I grabbed my satchel (you thought I'd left it, didn't you?) and unpacked the bedroll, rolling it out gratefully and curling up in it. Eomer knew better than to sleep _too_ close and as such I was wont of his company, but soon fell asleep.


	22. A Merry Meeting

**I WANTED TO GET TO ISENGARD AND LET ROWENA MEET THE HOBBITS LAST CHAPTER, BUT I ALSO DIDN'T WANT TO JUST SKIP PAST THE RIDE THERE, EITHER. I APOLOGIZE FOR THAT, BUT I DON'T LIKE SKIPPING AROUND. IT CAN GET VERY CONFUSING AND DISORIENTING FOR THE READERS AND THAT'S NOT WHAT I EVER WANT TO DO. HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY THIS CHAPTER!**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

I awoke a few hours later by the sound of the guards crying out in alarm. I spring up, automatically reaching for my gun before remembering it was in my satchel. Panicking and unsure what else to do, I dig into my satchel, but freeze at Gandalf's words.

"Stay where you are!" He barks and everyone halts. "Draw no weapons! Wait and it will pass you by!" He adds. I breath out in relief before looking around. It was beyond pitch-black around us, but upon looking up, I found that I could see the stars. The inky blackness seemed to be moving toward us from the north, I think. I swallow thickly, but do as the wizard had said. A mist then mingled with the darkness, making any sight impossible. There were whisperings and murmurs all around us, but whether our group made the noises or...something else, I have no idea.

Then, as if things hadn't gotten weird enough already, the ground trembled. I ended up sprawled on my bedroll, grimacing as it had been my bad shoulder I'd landed on. It had been getting steadily better, but even moving my neck the wrong way was painful. So landing on it was _not_ pleasant in any way. Soon enough, though it feels like an eternity, the dark passes, the voices quiet, and the land stills. I pick myself up and try to massage the ache from my shoulder. Eomer finds me still fingering it.

"Are you hurt?" He asks worriedly. I shake my head, hand dropping to my side.

"I kinda landed on my bad shoulder when the ground started shaking. I'll be fine." I then blow out a breath and sigh. "That was interesting. What was that, Gandalf?" I ask. The wizard exhales slowly.

"The huorns exacting revenge on the Orcs, I do believe. Or returning from it." The wizard replies. I nod. No one dares sleep again, too riled up by the darkened mist and murmurs. It had unsettled everyone and we grew restless to continue moving, but the mists had thickened again. Then, without warning, there's a rumbling sound and then water gushes down the banks we're camped beside, filling them to nearly spilling over. I jump back in shock.

"What the frick?!" I squeak. "That scared the crap outta me!" Gandalf merely frowns at the water. "What's wrong?" I ask.

"That remains to be seen." He says. I can't tell if he's worried or merely deep in thought and move to get something to eat from my satchel. Smirking, I draw out two apples. I then seek out Eomer, who is apparently hungry as well, retrieving small loaves from his pack. "Care for an apple?" I ask wryly, knowing he'd pick up on the inside joke between us. He laughs.

"Thank you, love." he says. I blink in shock. He'd- -he'd just called me...he just said he loved me! I know I called him 'darling' earlier, but that's just a nickname! I...guess I can say I...may love him. I sit beside him and munch happily on the apple, leaning my head on his strong shoulder.

"No problem, honey." I reply. There. I plan on using 'lover' or something like what he called me in a little while, but it was too early in our relationship for me just yet.

""Honey'?" He asks teasingly, nudging my side with his elbow. I chuckle.

"It's a nickname one member of a couple give to the other. Sometimes both call the other 'honey'. It's not weird." I reply, trying my best to look offended, but end up laughing. Eomer chuckles and continues eating. "Eomer?" I ask suddenly.

"Yes?"

"Why did you trust me with leading the shieldmaidens? I could have gotten them all killed." Eomer frowns.

"It was a...hardly rational decision. I simply acted on impulse, but it was not a thoughtless one. You led the citizens of Rohan to Helm's Deep admirably."

"I _had_ to." I point out. "Theoden King commanded me to."

"You did a remarkable job at command. I assumed that you would hold up under the pressures a second time." I nod, frowning.

"Just...next time, talk to me first?" He squeezes me to him, absently kissing my fringe (my cheeks flare almost painfully) and polishing off his apple.

"Certainly, my love. It was never my intent to make you uncomfortable." I squeeze him back.

"I know." Finally, the first signs of dawn come and it appears that it's the signal we were waiting for, as everyone fairly jumps to preparing to leave. We're ready to go in minutes. I untie Gremund and mount up, guiding him after the others. The mists don't seem to misguide Gandalf at all. He remains as sure of his path as he was yesterday. We were evidently not incredibly rushed, merely going just beyond a trot down the highway we'd galloped beside last night.

There is some god-awful smell in the air and the pale grey light does nothing to dispel the miserable grey smaug we ride through. It's only gotten thicker, and now seems thick enough to start making me wet. _Great_. By ten, Gandalf informs us that we are now in the Wizard's Vale and that we would arrive at Isengard in a few hours, more or less. Knowing Gandalf, it was probably 'more'. The river flows into many small streams and tributaries along our path and away into the rest of the Vale and I feel certain it might be a decent sight if this diabhal mist would just clear up already. I almost feel the want to strike up a song, but not in this mood. It seems ominous somehow and heavy. No one dared break the silence, and I can't help but wonder what awaits at the end of our journey. Gandalf said it wasn't a fight, but...what exactly _were_ we heading toward?

Who can say?

=#=#=#=#=

I begin to grow weary and exceedingly bored during the rest of the ride. I then sigh, turning my attention to Gimli.

"What are Merry and Pippin like?" I ask, my voice almost booming in the silence. Gimli starts before quickly regaining his composure.

"What prompted the question, lass?" He asks. I shrug.

"Boredom and the fact that I'd like to know more about them. Especially after running for two days trying to rescue them." Gimli sighs.

"Well, for one thing, they are as cheerful and bright-eyed as they come. Even when we came to a few sticky spots in our journey, they never seemed to lose heart. The spirit left us when the halflings were taken." That statement brought another question to mind.

"How were they taken? What happened?" Gimli, Aragorn, and Legolas flinch. It's clear the memory isn't pleasant, but Gimli swallows and begins.

"I suppose you should know, lass. We were making our way down the river Anduin and were ambushed by Orcs when we stopped to choose a path. We were a little undecided then on which route to take. In any case, during the battle, a member of our fellowship fell trying to defend Merry and Pippin. He was as dear a friend as the halflings I dearly hope to see them again." Gandalf smiles.

"And I daresay you shall, and soon." He replies. "Come now. We are nearly there."

He was right; another quarter of an hour(ish) later and a _tall_ tower (by Middle-Earth's standards, at least) rose out of the mists. I can't help but gape at it, although I'd seen a lot bigger and taller. I just hadn't expected a skyscraper in Middle-Earth.

"Have you never seen a tower, Winnie?" Eomer asks, and I hardly notice the nickname. I tear my eyes away, noting that the tower was branded with that white hand I'd seen on that helmet...so long ago. It was so weird, how long ago it seems.

"Well, yeah, I have. I just didn't expect to see one like that in this world." I say, nodding toward the looming, ominous tower I assume must be Isengard. Within an hour, we are at the gates. The huge double doors are set in a thick circular wall that kinda reminds me of the Deeping Wall. It's about as thick, seems like. This wall has a diameter I can't even begin to guess-timate (Guess and Estimate combined). What was most intriguing to me was the fact that this place had been recently flooded. In fact, hardly any of the water was drained, leaving Gremund to wade through mid-calf-deep water, at least, even before we got to the gateway. Streams and puddles ran along the ditch beside the road and the road itself was fairly washed out and had been rent with waves of water And there, perched as pretty as you please atop the broken outer gates, was two kids! What in the- -wait...no...they were...tiny men? Weird. Guess those are Hobbits? They're so cute! One is sleeping against a chunk of stone and one leans against the same chunk, blowing smoke rings from a pipe in his hands. This one's face lights up with recognition and glee and he stands as we draw near. The mist, though clearing up, is still present and as such, Theoden and Eomer are more prominent, being the first to be spotted with me as a close second.

"Welcome, my lords, to Isengard. We are the new doorwardens. Meriadoc, son of Saradoc, is my name, of Brandybuck house, and my companion" here, he nudged the second Hobbit with his foot, "- -alas, overcome with weariness- -is Peregrin, son of Paladin, of the house of Took." It seems those names (Took and Brandybuck) mean something, but I don't know what it is. I can't help a chuckle at the overly formal approach this little gentleman had taken to welcoming us. The queer little Hobbit then turns his head to me. "Welcome, my lady, as well. I apologize for my manners. Or the lack thereof." He quips with a small smirk, dipping again into a humble bow. I wave aside his concerns.

"Oh, geez, Meriadoc! No need to- -" something then clicks in my brain. "Do people call you two Merry and Pippin?" I ask, a tad too eagerly. The Hobbit cocks a brow, somehow also narrowing his eyes.

"Begging pardon, milady, but...do I know you?" I then take a breath to compose myself.

"I am sorry, Meriadoc. I just...got a bit ahead of myself. My name is Rowena, and only an hour or two ago, Gimli was talking a bit about you and someone named Pippin."

"And how do you know Gimli?" Merry asks. Fair question, I muse.

"I met them, ah, about six days ago now. They were running to rescue you two. I joined them when I was...lost." I explain, not feeling up to telling Merry just yet that I was from another planet. He nods.

"Forgive me, milady." I chuckle.

"There is nothing to forgive, kind sir. One can never be too careful, especially with this war starting." I reply easily. He bows once more.

"You are too kind, Lady Rowena." I laugh. I liked this guy already.

"Just Rowena or Winnie will be fine, thank you." I assure him gently. "I am unused to being addressed by more formal titles." I explain. Merry grins.

"Good. Then you can call me 'Merry'!" I laugh with him easily.

"A fair exchange, to be sure." I reply. Gandalf then comes forward.

"And was it Saruman who ordered you to guard his damaged doors, when your attention could be spared from plate and bottle?" Gandalf asks in an almost teasing tone, though he seemed as serious as ever. Merry cracks a smile.

"No, Gandalf. The matter escaped him. He has been much occupied." Merry replies with an equally serious demeanor and expression betrayed only by the light pose he stood in, hand on hip. "Our orders come from Treebeard, who has taken over management of Isengard. He himself commanded me- -or rather, the two of us- -to welcome the Lord of Rohan and his company when they arrive with fitting words. I did my best." He says.

"I think you overdid it a tad." I tease in a stage whisper, hand up to my mouth conspiratorially, smiling up at the playful Hobbit, who laughs. It's a- -pardon the pun- -merry, jovial sound.

"And what about your companions?!" Gimli barks indignantly. "You rascals! You woolly-footed and wool-pated truants!" He cries angrily, though it is clear he is very relieved to find them safe and unscathed. "A fine hunt you have led us on!" He then goes on. I snort in laughter.

"It's not like they _meant_ to be whisked away, Gimli." I point out. Gimli is still too riled up to pay me any mind, though Merry acknowledged my statement with a nod, eyes the most serious I've seen them.

"Two hundred leagues, through fen and forest, battle and death, to rescue you! And here we find you feasting and idling- -and smoking! _Smoking_! Where did you come by the weed, you villains? Hammer and tongs, I am so torn between rage and joy, if I do not burst, it'd be a marvel!"Gimli rants, and I nearly laugh at the sheer relief on his face despite the way he talked. Legolas looks down at his companion and laughs.

"You speak for me, as well, Gimli. Though I would rather know how they came by the wine." Pippin peeks his eye open lazily, smirking devilishly.

"One thing you have not found in your hunting, and that's brighter wits!" He quips nonchalantly. "Here you find us sitting on a field of victory and the plunder of armies, enjoying a few well-earned comforts, and you ask how we came by them!"

"'Well-deserved'?" Gimli repeats, scoffing. "I cannot believe that!" That statement was so obviously a jest between best friends, I burst out laughing. Everyone else did, as well. Pippin looks the picture of innocence and well-meaning.

"The salted pork is particularly good." He notes, taking a bite of said pork. I continue laughing, especially when Gimli's jaw hangs.

"Salted pork?" He asks incredulously. We all come closer and enter into the flooded almost bowl-like entrance to Isengard. And so, we come to our task here.

Gandalf's chat with the devil.

 **I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER AND ARE ABLE TO LEAVE ME FROM COMMENTS TO RETURN TO AFTER A WEEKEND *GASP*** _ **NO WIFI**_ **! I KNOW, BUT IT'S MY COUSIN'S BABY SHOWER AND I NEVER KNOW WHAT THEIR INTERNET IS LIKE. IN ALL LIKELIHOOD, I WILL HAVE TO WAIT TIL SUNDAY TO CHECK EMAIL. DOESN'T MEAN I CAN'T WRITE, THOUGH.**


	23. Dealing with a Devil and a Snake

**I'M BAACCKKK! HEH. IT WAS A GREAT WEEKEND WITH MY COUSINS, JUST SO YOU ALL KNOW. HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY THIS CHAPTER AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK. I REALLY LIKED COMING BACK AND FINDING SOME LOVELY REVIEWS TO READ AND FAWN OVER FOR A WHILE! ;)**

 **TO Legolasle: I REALLY ENJOYED YOUR REVIEW! GLAD I COULD AMUSE YOU. IT WAS AMUSING TO ME, AS WELL. AND HAVE NO FEAR, I AM NOT THE KIND OF WRITER THAT WRITES INTERCOURSE AND SMUT BETWEEN ANY CHARACTERS EVER. ALTHOUGH I MAY HINT THAT ROWENA AND EOMER ARE ATTRACTED TO EACH OTHER LIKE** _ **THAT**_ **, THEY WON'T DO** _ **IT**_ **UNTIL THE WEDDING NIGHT.**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

As the Hobbits climb down and I move aside to permit Merry onto my saddle (at his request), Theoden seems to be surveying and weighing up the newcomers, almost as if he had heard about them before. Or something similar to them.

"So these are the lost ones of your company, Gandalf?" He asks as if he already knew the answer. Gandalf nods. "These days are fated to be filled with marvels." He muses. "Already I have seen many since I left my house and here now are yet more folk of legend." He then turns to the Hobbits. "Are you not the Halflings that some among the Rohir call Holbytlan?" He asks. Pippin nods.

"Hobbit, if you please, my lord." He politely corrects. Theoden nods.

"Your tongue is strangely changed, but the name sounds not unfitting so." He then chuckles in disbelief, taking the sight of the pair in. "Hobbits." He muses, trying the word out. "No report I have heard does justice to the truth." Merry and Pippin seemed shocked by this, and bowed as much as could be helped in a saddle.

"You are gracious, lord, and I hope I may so take your words." He says genuinely. "And here I see another marvel; in all the lands I have come to in my travels, I had never found a people that knew any story concerning Hobbits."

"Pity. Y'all are so nice." I mumble. Merry chuckle.

"I thank you, Winnie. Although, the lack of stories may be due to the fact that so few of us leave the Shire, our home. We tend to live out our entire lives in seclusion, content to ignore and be ignored by the Big Folk, for the most part." I nod, but before I can ask how they came to join in this quest, there strides up through the water another of those Ents we saw in the woods, only this one seemed a bit older, wiser, and generally had a leader-like air about him. I can't help but stare in awe. Ents are even more impressive up close.

"Young Master Gandalf." The Ent greets jovially. He speaks slowly, as if carefully considering each word. "I'm...glad you've come. Wood and water, stock and stone, I can master, but there is a Wizard to manage here, locked in his tower with...one Wormtongue." He says, with odd, random pauses in his speech. Aragorn glares up the tower as we approach.

"Show yourself." He hisses. I sigh.

"Aragorn, there's no way he's gonna hear you." I point out cheekily. Aragorn merely chuckles. Gandalf frowns. I cock my head at him.

"What's wrong?"

"I advise caution from here on." He replies. "A cornered beast is not safe to approach. I do not know what he will try, but know this, all of you: beware his voice. It holds a power you do not guess." He then approaches the tower and halts about fifteen feet back from the tower itself. "Saruman! Saruman come forth!" He booms in an echoing, commanding tone that made me want to obey it myself. I then frown, just now thinking of something.

"Why is this necessary again? If Saruman can bewitch us with his mere _voice_ , what good will making him _talk_ do?" Before Gandalf can reply, there is the sound of a door opening, and faint footsteps. Then, in a kind of balcony halfway-ish of the way up the tower (which means that it is five stories or so up), an old man similar to Gandalf appears. In terms of a regal, powerful bearing, he was on par with Gandalf, but in terms of looking approachable and grandfatherly, Gandalf left him in the dust.

"You have fought many wars and slain many men, Theoden King, and made peace afterward." The newcomer (I assume he's Saruman) says, his voice as booming and echoing as Gandalf's, and yet I recognize the evilness to it from when Theoden protested Gandalf's healing in Meduseld. " _Rohan is_ _ **mine**_ _!_ " He'd growled. And there was that same voice now, but gentler, more subtle. This time around, it seemed he wanted the opposite effect as in Meduseld; he wanted to soothe our wariness, make us drop our guard, then strike. He intended to make us think he was a victim of unfortunate circumstances undeserved. I, however, knew better. "Can we not take counsel like we once did, old friend? Can we not have peace, you and I?" I frown, but barely refrain from barking out a witty, sarcastic reply. It was not my place, no matter how tempted I was to reply.

"Lord, hear me! Have we ridden forth to victory only to stand at last amazed by an old lair with honey on his forked tongue. So would the trapped wolf speak to the hounds, if he could." Eomer warns under his breath. Theoden frowns, seeming to wrestle with himself, opening and closing his mouth several times before giving a slow reply.

"We shall have peace." I blanch. No _way_! Saruman can _not_ have ensnared Theoden again so easily! Eomer's frightened, worried look was enough to nearly make me protest, but Theoden spoke again, and his opinion of Saruman was made clear. "We shall have peace, when you answer for the burning of the Westfold, and the mothers and children that lay dead there! We shall have peace when the lives of the soldiers, whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the door of the Hornburg, are avenged! When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows, we shall have peace!" He growls savagely through gritted teeth. I blew out a sigh of relief. Then felt ashamed that I had doubted Theoden for even a moment. But...he had sounded like he was back under Saruman's thumb. And that was a scary thought. I smirk smugly up at the imprisoned wizard as Theoden falls silent, then share a relieved glance with Eomer. Turns out, Theoden would never be taken by soft-spoken words of a defeated wizard again.

"Gibbets and crows?" Saruman growls, knuckles whitening against his staff. "Dotard!" He spits. Rage fills me and I can't remain silent any longer.

"Hey!" I snap, despite Eomer's hand on my shoulder. "How _dare_ you talk to the King of Rohan like that?! You should be happy that we haven't shot you dead where you stand!" Saruman then sneers at me evilly.

"You are rather bold, to address me thus, off-worlder!" He growls. I swallow. How on earth had Saruman gotten that information? "Oh, yes. I know who you are, Rowena the lightning-survivor." I narrow my eyes, realization hitting like a truck; Grima had told his puppet master everything. "And what's more, I know what you wielded in the battle you have come from. My spies tell me it is a fearsome weapon, capable of killing in one stroke." His voice fills my senses, and I find myself, almost unwillingly, wanting to hear more of it. And to do whatever it was that the wonderful voice bade me. "I wonder if I might have a look at it, to merely study it and determine if it may be replicated." _That was a reasonable request_ , I think to myself. I find my hand straying to the satchel, fingers brushing aside the food and- -wait. He's the bad guy! What the _frick_ am I doing?! I halt my hand just as it brushes the ammo box, right beside the glock. I'm silent for a moment, eyes scrunched shut, torn suddenly between fulfilling Saruman's request and ensuring that he never gets the gun. Finally, I open my eyes and speak, though it's nearly painful to deny the voice what it wanted.

"There's just two small problems with that request, Saruman." I say around a thick, heavy tongue that didn't seem to like talking if it weren't to obey Saruman. "One, I can't toss it that high; I'm rubbish at throwing things. And two, you are pure _evil_!" I bark, now finding the rage that had been buried when the honeyed words slipped into my ears, ignoring the small chuckle Merry gives off. "You will _never_ get this gun!" I roar defiantly, fists curling at my sides. Saruman's eyes narrow.

"So you, too, elect the harder, narrower path of agony and torment. Pity. I offered you a chance to spare yourself much pain. Now, it will be taken by force!" I sneer up at him, arms crossed over my chest.

"Not on my watch." Saruman scoffs at me, deeming our business completed, and turns to Gandalf.

"And what do you want, Gandalf Greyhame?" He snarls. In a surge of pettiness, I want to correct him on the color of Gandalf's robes; they're white, not grey, but I bite my tongue. I had said my peace. I shouldn't intrude more than necessary now. "Let me guess; the Key of Orthanc, or perhaps the Keys of Barad-Dur itself? Along with the crowns of the seven kings and the staffs of the five wizards?!"

"They're better served in his hands than yours!" I snap at him before I can stop myself, despite the fact that I knew _nothing_ about what he was talking about.

"Rowena, be silent." Gandalf hisses, not unkindly, at me, then turns back to the wizard on the balcony. "Your treachery has already cost many lives, Saruman. Thousands more are now at risk. But you could save them; you were deep in the Enemy's counsel." Saruman smiles bitterly down at Gandalf.

"So, you have come here for information." He jeers snidely. "I have some for you." He says, lording it over the other wizard that Saruman knew more than Gandalf. Then, suddenly, a strange glint comes to Saruman's eyes and he draws a large, polished glass orb from his robes and hold it out in plain sight. Something akin to flame flickers faintly in its depths. "Behold! This is the key to the return of Sauron!" Gandalf subtly flinches, eyes widening ever so slightly in shock. "His attack will come swiftly. You are all going to die."

"Gandalf, what is that thing?" I whisper. Gandalf doesn't take his eyes off the orb as he speaks.

"A Seeing-Stone." He mutters absently. Saruman speaks up, putting the orb away, before I can reply that Gandalf's answer didn't help at all.

"For you, Gandalf, I at least am grieved. Are we not both members of a high and ancient order, most excellent in Middle-Earth? Can we not take counsel together, and banish from thought these lesser beings?"

"'Lesser beings'?!" I bark indignantly, but Saruman doesn't stop to reply to me.

"How comes it that you endure such company? For you are proud, Gandalf, and do not love advice, having a store of your own wisdom, and your eyes see deep and far. Even so, you cannot seriously think that this Ranger will ever sit on the throne of Gondor, the last heir of a dwindling house long bereft of lordship?" I nearly scoff aloud. Is he seriously trying to both insult and woo Gandalf right now? He's far more stupid than I thought. "Even now, will you not listen to my counsel?" At that, I scoff. I can't help it. Does he honestly think Gandalf so stupid as to fall for that old trick?

Wait...why is Gandalf riding closer?! Surely, he is above Saruman's reach? Right? Amazingly, then, Gandalf laughs. And laughs and laughs.

"Oh, Saruman, you should have been the king's jester!" He mocks, getting a grip on himself again. "Nay, I will not come up! But listen, Saruman, for the last time; will you not come down? Isengard has proved less strong than your hope and fancy made it. Think well! Will you not come down?" It is a noble thing Gandalf is offering, and is most likely the right thing to do. That being said... _why_ is Gandalf offering a way of salvation for this traitorous snake?! I can't help but want to shoot that old geezer where he stands.

"That sounds so like you, Gandalf; so condesending, and so very kind. You do not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to you, those you professes to love! Tell me, did you speak such to the halfling, when you sent him to his doom?" I frown. What on earth is he talking about? Eomer and I share puzzled looks. "The path that you have set him on can only lead to death, so save your pity and your mercy!" Saruman snarls suddenly, adjusting his staff as if to strike Gandalf with it. "I have no use for it!" Then, with a powerful thrust of his staff, a huge fireball zooms down and engulfs Gandalf where he stands!

"Seanathair!" I scream, forgetting for a moment that it is not my grandfather before me, but Gandalf. "No!" However, I am forgetting that Gandalf is not defenseless. The flames die away and there he stands, unscathed. I heave a huge sigh of relief. I then notice that Saruman is walking away in alleged victory.

"Come back, Saruman!" Gandalf booms. And Saruman _does_! "I did not give you leave to go." I can't help a snicker at that. Gandalf just played Saruman at his own game. "Behold! I am not Gandalf the Grey that you betrayed. I am Gandalf the White, who has returned from death!" That sent confusion through me. What in the world? 'Returned from death'? What does that mean? "I cast you from the Order and the Counsel. You have no colour now and your staff is broken. Go now!" And even as Gandalf spoke, the staff broke in Saruman's hands, and Saruman stumbled back, a look of terror and dismay on his face. Grima then appears behind his master, as if to see what the commotion was about. Theoden looks saddened and even slightly surprised that his old advisor was here.

"Grima, you need not follow him. You were not always as you are now; you were once a Man of Rohan." He calls up, and Grima doesn't seem to be able to decide if he wants to strangle or listen to Theoden.

"Man of Rohan?" Saruman snarls, suddenly beside himself with rage at this humiliation and utter defeat. "What is Rohan, but a thatched barn when brigands drink in the reek and their brats roll on the floor with the dogs?! You are a lesser son of greater sires, Theoden Horse-Master!"

"You may not wish to antagonize the man who has every right to call for your death!" I call back, reddening in rage. How _dare_ Saruman act so lordly and high above us when his was the greatest of base treacheries, sinking him far below us?! Theoden's jaw works tightly in hot rage and fury, but he merely looks at Grima again.

"Grima, come down." He urges nobly. "Be free of him." He seethes through clenched teeth. I roll my eyes. I know Grima isn't coming down. Saruman scoffs.

"'Free'?" He mocks. "He will never be free!" Grima takes a step back. I blow a stray strand of hair from my face.

"Treachery gets you nowhere." I mumble under my breath.

"No!" Grima cries. Saruman whirls around furiously.

"Get. Down, _cur_!" He growls, slapping Grima hard across the face. I wince. I heard it from here.

"Saruman!" Gandalf barks. "You were deep in the Enemy's counsel. Tell us what you know!" Saruman then seems to deflate in his defeat.

"Withdraw that guard, and I will tell you what I know. I refuse to be held prisoner here!" But even as Saruman finishes speaking, Grima, snarling and probably hissing like the serpent he was, draws a knife from somewhere in his robes and advances on Saruman. I pale.

"Grima, no!" But I was just a split second too late; the knife had already done its deadly work. Legolas confidently and smoothly draws his bow and fires a shot in a split second. It strikes dead in Grima's heart, or where it would be if he had one. Theoden winces as if he were the one struck and Grima collapses. Saruman, however, falls down the entire five stories or so toward us, landing with a sickening _thunk_ on a spiked wheel for some machine far below, now ruined. Before me, Merry gasps, hand over his mouth in shock. "Geez!" I curse, turning my head away from the grisly spectacle.

That concluded our business at Isengard, it seems.


	24. On the Journey Home

**BEFORE WE BEGIN, I WANT TO REPLY TO THE REVIEWS FROM LAST CHAPTER.**

 **Jo: THERE** _ **IS**_ **A LOT GOING ON. I HOPE YOU ARE ENJOYING IT, THOUGH.**

 **Yasmanisfeir1: I love that you love my story! It really means a lot to me! I enjoyed writing that scene, even when I nearly made Rowena give up her gun to the bady guys. Good thing she didn't, right? XD You're wish for more is granted, friend! Here you go!**

 **AND THERE WE HAVE IT! HOPE YOU LIKE THIS NEW CHAPTER!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

I take a breath to quell the slight nausea I felt at the formerly alive and bad-tempered wizard skewered on a spike. Then, the wheel begins to spin and Saruman slowly slides from view, a sickening red stain spreading over the once fair white robes. As he slides forward, that Seeing-Stone thing falls from wherever it was kept in Saruman's robes, landing with an audible _thunk_ at the bottom of the water. Almost immediately, Pippin dismounts from Aragorn's horse and goes to get it.

"Pippin!" Aragorn cries, but Pippin doesn't heed him, eyes and attention only for the thing in his hands. I must admit, it is beautiful. But it is a cold, deadly beauty, like a sword or a knife. I can't imagine why Pippin's looking at it like it were a precious jewel to be treasured.

"Bless my bark!" The ent from before says in surprise.

"I'll take that, my lad." Gandalf says gently, but firmly, holding his hand out for the orb. "Quickly now." He adds when Pippin hesitates. The Hobbit gives it to him and Gandalf wraps it in his robes, skin never even touching the glass of the orb. I cock a brow and tilt my head in confusion.

"What exactly does that thing _do_?" I ask as we depart.

"It's user can cast an eye over that which the stone is able to see. It can also allow, if two stones were used in unison, for users to communicate with one another." Gandalf replies sourly, glancing at the wrapped Seeing-Stone as if it was something foul and unclean. I frown. So...Seeing-Stones are the cell phones or Middle-Earth, huh?

"So, if I were to use it and Eowyn had one in Meduseld, I could talk to her?" Gandalf nods.

"Yes. However, I must insist none use it. Sauron and Saruman, it is clear, used these orbs to lay their plans and plots to destroy all of Middle-Earth. Sauron is in possession of a Palantir himself, and as such, none must use this one." I nod.

"That's okay. Didn't feel like chatting with evil overlord-wanna-bes, anyway." Gandalf chuckles, and for a moment, I swear I am back to being eight years old, listening to Seanathair chat and laugh with Mom and Jer and Willow. We ride in silence for awhile, hours maybe (I can't tell), and I can't help reviewing my memories of Seanathair once again.

After a while, I shake myself. Grandad was gone and I couldn't bring him back by envisioning this wizard as a replacement for him, no matter how closely he resembled the man.

"My dear, does something trouble you?" Gandalf asks. "Hardly surprising. Few come away from Saruman unscathed, even when he was a friend and ally." I smile at his concern.

"Nah, I was just...reminiscing." I confess, cheeks reddening a bit.

"What about?" He asks gently. I chuckle awkwardly.

"Ah...well...I keep seeing my grandfather when you do certain things, Gandalf. Like, just now, when you chuckled, I swore you sounded just like him and that I was eight years old again, before Seanathair- -sorry, grandfather- -died." I mumble, shifting nervously in the saddle. Now that I'd said it aloud...I felt incredibly foolish and stupid.

"That is no coincidence, my dear." Gandalf replies. "With every world and reality come incarnations of certain members of said world and reality. It is entirely possible that I am simply this world's version of your grandfather." I frown.

"Weird. I just thought you looked a lot like him. But, now I think about it, I realize you act a bit like him, too. He was a good man." Gandalf nods.

"I feel certain, Rowena. I feel honoured to remind you of him." I nod.

"It is a compliment, I assure you." Then, we ride in silence for a while, and Merry strikes up a conversation about Hobbit-kind with Theoden.

"My people came forth from the North long ago, but I will not deceive you;" Theoden was saying, "we know no tales of Hobbits. All that is said among us is that far away, over many hills and rivers, live the halfling folk that dwell in holes in sand-dunes. There are no legends of their deeds, however." Merry nods.

"It is as I said to Winnie when we met; we seldom leave the Shire." Theoden smiles.

"Indeed. I remember you saying that, and having heard it said elsewhere that halflings may vanish in a twinkling, and that they can change their voices to mimic the piping of a bird. But it seems more can be said."

"It could, indeed." Merry replies.

"For one thing, I had not known that they spouted smoke from their mouths." Theoden muses, a touch of a rare wry humor in his voice. Merry seems cheered by this, leaning forward eagerly.

"That is not surprising," he says, "for it an art which we have not practised for more than a few generations." He reports. "It was Tobold Hornblower in the Southfarthing who first grew the true pipe-weed in his gardens, about 1070 according to our reckoning. How he came by the plant- -"

"You do not know your danger, Theoden." Interrupts Gandalf good-naturedly, an amused twinkle in his eyes. "These Hobbits will sit on these horses and discuss the pleasures of the table, or the small doings of their fathers, grandafthers, and great-grandfathers, and even remote cousins to the ninth degree, if you encourage them, with an undue patience and detail."

"Oi!" Pippin barks playfully. "We resemble that remark, thank you very much!" He adds. I laugh.

"So it seems." I reply.

"In any event, it is high past time for a rest and some sustenance not eaten in haste." Gandalf says, drawing off the road and selecting a decent-sized clearing to take our lunch. Merry turns to me as much as possible as we draw near where the horses are being tied off.

"So that is the King of Rohan?" He asks rhetorically, but I nod, anyway. "A fine old fellow. Very polite!" I laugh.

"That he is." I reply. "Come on, then. I know you're not hungry, but I am!" He then scoffs, stumbling a little when he lands on the ground again.

"Who says I am not hungry?" He barks with mock-indignance. I shake my head amusedly at him.

"You just ate!" I point out. Pippin suddenly appears at Merry's side.

"We've had something to eat, yes, but we Hobbits could eat all day if we were allowed! It seems we are seldom satisfied at any given meal." I laugh.

"Well, alright then. Let's see if we can get you two something to eat." Merry and Pippin surge forward eagerly. I grab the hoods of their cloaks. "Easy there, you two!"

"But there's food!" Pippin squeaks, straining forward again. I chuckle.

"Food or not, there's no cause to rush around." Pippin crosses his arms sourly.

"Now you sound like Treebeard; 'don't be hasty', 'sit still', and all that rot." He complains.

"Then he has a wise head on his shoulders." I reply, laughing even as I release the Hobbits and head to where Eomer was setting out plates. He beams at me and I return the look. I note that he is also getting apples out to go with some salted pork and cheese and bread. He begins making sandwiches with an innocent expression I don't buy for a moment. "You know, we're gonna run out of apples at this rate." I muse, also feigning innocence. Eomer merely looks at me with mock surprise.

"I have no idea what you are talking about." He says. I roll my eyes, but take the proffered plate and beginning to eat the sandwich.

"Gotta hand it to those Hobbits; they know their meat. This _is_ really good pork!" I muse as a way to open a new channel for the conversation.

"Have you tried the apples?" Eomer asks. I choke a little on my food as I guffaw.

"N-no!" I say, coughing a little and taking a swig of my waterskin. "I haven't." We then fall about laughing, food forgotten for the moment.

"What is all this?" Theoden asks jovially, seating himself before us and taking up the third plate I had not noticed before now. I contain my laughter reluctantly. After Isengard, I needed a good laugh. I suppose Eomer might have seen that, being able to read me so easily.

"Oh! Uncle!" Eomer says, standing and bowing hurriedly before plopping back down beside me. "I was simply reminding Rowena of something in the earlier days of our...acquaintance." He says, catching himself in the nick of time. It was not quite the right moment for revealing our courtship. Soon, though. Theoden innocently swallows a bite full of sandwich before addressing us.

"I see. And what was it that was so amusing?" He asks genuinely. I laugh.

"Well...when Eomer was, ah, detained, I went to see him in the early morning before Gandalf arrived that afternoon. I'd brought him an apple and ate one myself. Apples are now kinda like an inside joke with us." I explain, feeling again somewhat simple and foolish. Theoden surprises us by laughing as jovially as we had done.

"Ah, for the pleasure of youth! My wife, Elfhild, would make a meat pie on our anniversary. She was a maiden of Meduseld at the time we first met. She tripped and sent the pie onto my chest. Thankfully, it was well-cooled and did not burn." I laugh with Eomer and Theoden, though I note the grief and memory in the king's gaze. "He is an honorable man, Rowena, and you an honorable lady. You shall do well for each other, I think." He says, winking knowingly at me.

"Diabhal, you're quick." I mumble in shock. Then blush. I'd just cursed in gaelic in front of the King of Rohan! "Sorry. How did you know?" I ask.

"Dark does not hide all, Rowena. Nor do false expressions, no matter how well-schooled. I have learned to read people well in my long years." I blush and nod.

"I'm glad." I tell him genuinely. "We had to intention of hiding it." Theoden nods.

"Your actions do you credit, Rowena. You have my blessing." And with that, he polishes off his sandwich and leaves to call everyone back to our horses. I then chuckle in surprise at Eomer. He seems just as confused as I am as he helps me up.

"Who knew your uncle could read people about as well as Gandalf?" I muse. "He's good." Eomer nods.

"And a great king. It is not by blood only that I keep my oath to him; honor and true loyalty easily sway me. There is no cause to doubt his leadership." I nod.

"Though I'd imagine...when Grima...things got difficult?" He nods sadly.

"Aye. 'Twas the most strained my loyalty and love have ever been." Before I can reply, I swing up onto Gremund and Merry asks for a hand up. He then looks at me over his shoulder as I nudge Gremund forward.

"Milady...I must ask; what did Saruman mean when he said you were an off-worlder?" I sigh.

"I was going to tell you. I swear."

"Go on, then." He urges impatiently. I swallow. For some reason, I was nervous to tell him.

"Well, he meant just what he said; I'm not from this world." Merry frowns.

"How did you get here, then?" I sigh, and (for the third time) pulled up my left sleeve. Merry gasps.

"Torture?!" He cries. I laugh.

"No, no! I was struck by lightning and then woke up here. Gandalf told me the Valar brought me here for some reason. Not even he knows what it is, though." Merry nods.

"Well, I'm glad you're here! Where are you from?" He asks. I smile at his enthusiasm. Gimli hadn't lied when he called them light-hearted and bubbly.

"A land called Scotland. I was running for exercise and then a storm sprang up on me and I wound up here."

"It just came up on you?" Merry asks. "Just like that?" I chuckle.

"Well, it was like any storm, but more fierce than I any I can recall. I really should have turned back, but I guess my stubborn streak won out. And hey, I got to meet you all! So, it all worked out in the end." He chuckles, as well.

"Clearly." He then frowns. "What did Saruman mean about a 'fearsome weapon'?" He asks. I swallow.

"I hope I won't have to show you. I don't use it unless I need to." I say, sighing heavily.

"What is it?"

"It's called a gun and it is very dangerous to just go waving it about." I explain shortly.

"Can I just see it?" It's too similar to what Saruman had said. I swallow hard, scrunching my eyes shut, guilt swarming as I remember what I had nearly done.

"I...no, Merry. Not right now." I say, voice low and insistent. He looks at me over his shoulder.

"Milady?" I open my eyes.

"Yeah?"

"What is it?"

"...I just...I can't show off the gun. It's not a toy or a prize. It is a weapon and I don't like having to use it, but sometimes, there's no choice." I confess. He swallows.

"I meant no offense." He whispers genuinely.

"No offense was taken, just...it reminded me of Saruman asking for the gun and how close I came to...to betraying Middle-Earth." I whimper.

"Winnie?" Merry cries. "No, no! You didn't betray Middle-Earth! That's just it! You resisted!" He insists. When had I started crying?

"But I came _so_ close!" I reply, clenching my fists in anger and self-loathing.

"There are few who resist with so little apparent effort, Rowena. The fact that you are counted among them is a high honor, not a treachery." Gandalf assures me gently.

"Rowena...you punish yourself for that which you did not do." Eomer adds, hand on my shoulder. "As with my cousin, please release this burden." I sniffle, wiping my tears away.

"Thanks." I tell him genuinely.

"You allow guilt too easily into your mind, my dear, seeing errors where there are none. This is no great fault, but it only harms you." Gandalf adds kindly. I laugh.

"I know. I just...can't help it." Eomer gives my shoulder another squeeze before riding forward to rejoin his uncle. I was almost tempted to call him back and hold his hand, but knew better. I was then drawn to the report given about what had happened before I met Aragorn and the others. Apparently, there was a group of people of various races that set out with one purpose (I noted no one told me what that was) and that one of the company, a Man named Boromir, had done something and ended up splitting the Fellowship, as it was called, shortly before he saw Orcs and fell defending Merry and Pippin. Sadly, they were captured and taken, alive, to Saruman, but (thanks to my handsome Marshall) they never reached the destination as captives, but swept in as conquerors.

As we press on to Edoras in silence, I can't help but think of how little a role I seemed to have in this obviously huge adventure and legend happening before me.

I'd probably have to fix that eventually.


	25. An Overdue Explanation

**AS BEFORE, I WILL REPLY TO REVIEWS BEFORE WE GET TO THE STORY.**

 **Me and Not You 1001: I am really glad you like the story! Rowena just has a weird sense of humor. Pretty similar to mine, really. I plan on updating ASAP, but...I dunno when, exactly.**

 **Yasminisfeir1: Glad you liked the chapter. I try to develop Rowena in a reasonable, in-character way and am** _ **really**_ **glad that you find her enjoyable and hilarious. I was honestly slightly nervous about this chapter because of how Saruman's voice affected her, but am really happy that you didn't mind it. As I said to Me and Not You 1001, I do plan on updating ASAP.**

 **Jo: I am really happy you are loving my story! :)**

 **JJAndrews: I was blown away (in a good way) by your review. I really like it when people tell me specific elements that they like about my story. As to your point about her gun; she has an Uncle and a few cousins in the military. They bought her the gun and holster as a way to protect her even if they aren't there. It never hurts to be prepared. Bad people are** _ **everywhere**_ **. I didn't know it was difficult to get a glock in Scotland. Thank you for pointing that out.**

 **I MUST CONFESS NERVES AT POSTING THIS CHAPTER. AS YOU READ, IT WILL BECOME OBVIOUS WHY. THAT BEING SAID, I HOPE YOU ALL LIKE THIS CHAPTER!**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

We continued to ride hard into the night, stopping once the moon rose a few feet into the air. By then, we'd gotten far past the Fords of Isen, only slowing down a bit in respect for the dead. My heart had clenched for those left behind that had loved these brave Rohir before I'd forced myself to look away and focus on riding.

When we've settled for the few remaining hours of the night, I notice that Theoden's all alone and looked rather troubled. Overcome with sympathy and concern for the old man, I move toward him.

"Sire?" I ask. He has a troubled furrow to his brow that is forced to be at least less noticeable now as he turns to me. "May I join you?" He actually manages a smile and pats the ground beside him.

"Certainly, my dear." He replies. I plop wearily down, massaging my legs to loosen them up a bit. An air of familiarity falls over us and I find I quite like it. "The stars are abundantly clear tonight." He muses. I don't take the bait and talk to Theoden on his terms. I want to take control of this talk.

"They are." I reply politely. "What's wrong, my liege? I saw that troubled look before I caught your attention." I then ask tentatively. He sighs.

"A great many things, I am afraid." I can somehow read what's really at the heart of his troubles; Grima and his fall from grace, leading to a dishonorable death on the balcony of Isengard. I nudge his shoulder.

"No offense, Theoden, sire, but Grima was a diabhal fool for betraying us like that. He was never gonna come down, no matter how you pleaded and demanded it." I say genuinely. Theoden genuinely chuckles.

"I know not how you knew that, but you have, I deem, reached the heart of my troubles. Grima's was the less necessary of the two deaths in Isengard. It seems only yesterday that he was a genuinely helpful advisor. Now, I shudder to think how long the dark crept into me at his direction." I nod.

"Again, that is not on you, sire. It was all on Grima, and I daresay he paid for his mistakes." I point out with a casual shrug.

"Aye, but I had hoped that it would not come to that bitter end. I had hoped we could go back to the way it used to be." I purse my lips.

"Sire, not to seem rude, but I doubt _anything_ will ever be the way it was." Theoden groans.

"I see that, but still..." I nod.

"You somehow hold to the hope." We both fall silent, content to let the other muse and think in silence. I then gaze up at the stars. "Doesn't mean that all change is bad, though." Theoden and I chuckle.

"You are wise beyond your years, Rowena. I can see why my nephew is attracted to you." I blush a little and smile, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Perhaps you and he will be wed afore the year ends." I flush and open and close my mouth like a fish for a moment. _Fine. If that's how he wants to play it...two can play at this game, Theoden._

"Yeah, and then there'd be adopted grandchildren for you to dote on." I muse casually, smirking as I stand, brush myself off and take my leave. Theoden seems at least a bit startled at my comfort with the idea, though in reality, I am a bit nervous about the whole situation.

Luckily, Eomer seems to fair my view on relationships and we have come to an agreement regarding our boundaries, so that conversation is over already. Things are great between us, but I don't want to consider marriage just yet; I still don't know Eomer as well as I'd like, though I am learning more everyday. Speaking of, the Third Marshall is suddenly hugging me after a day of not being able to. I smile and return the hug.

"Join me for dinner?" He asks, and I can feel his smile. I nod.

"Oh, yes please." I then raise a finger. "On one condition; _no_ apples." I tease, smirking. Eomer and I laugh as we snuggle close together, sharing a large plate of food Eomer had obviously prepared for two (devoid of apples, I note). Cheeky little devil'd known I would eat with him. I loved him for it. Once we were done, we sat back replete and content in each other's arms. I then let my head fall back and I gazed at the starlit sky, so much clearer and infinitely more cluttered than Scotland's sky, despite my home being a fair distance from any city or town. "I see the Shield and Hilda the Handmaiden." I muse idly. Eomer hums.

"I see Elfhild, Garawyn, and the First Sword." I playfully groan.

"You're so good at spotting them!" I compliment, poking his side. He chuckles, poking me back.

"You'll know them before long, I suspect. I can show you a star map when we get to Meduseld." I grin at him, snuggling closer.

"I'd love that." And before we know it, pointing out constellations is too burdensome somehow and we end up succumbing to the sweet darkness of sleep.

=#=#=#=#=

I can only say this of the next several hours once we'd woken up and gotten riding again; striking up a conversation with a wizard is a great, if not confusing, time-killer.

It started when I met Gandalf's gaze as we began to move the horses back to the road. Then, I'd asked him what was wrong and he replied that he had 'puzzled it out'. On asking what he had puzzled out, he replied 'why, your presence here, of course!' and proceeded to explain his reasoning. It went a little something like this:

Arda and my world are two of many different worlds and these worlds act like the orbiting parts of an atom, swirling and spinning around some nexus point out there in the vastness of space. Our two worlds happen to be on a similar plane, nearly always aligned. However, it takes a _lot_ of power to rip a hole- -or portal, if you will- -in the 'fabric' separating these two worlds.

The Valar, obviously, possess this power, but it isn't a good idea to repeatedly break apart the time-space continuum. That, and this portal-making was pushing against the Valar's limits. They break this barrier by using the longing people feel for someone dead in one world, but alive in another, and even then it had to be in a moment when the body was utterly ready to move on to the afterlife. Rarely ever do the Valar act on that longing, but they can. I was one of those exceptions, clearly. Gandalf guessed that the Valar- -or maybe the only power greater than them, Iluvatar- -had sensed that Gandalf would need a bit of help and had used our relation (granddaughter and grandfather) to get me here, as I was the only candidate available.

Then came the most startling revelation; I was merely a soul inhabiting a Arda native's body. The body of Gandalf's stillborn granddaughter. My mother in Arda had passed to the halls of Valinor a long time ago and Gandalf had been living without family for a long time, creating the longing needed to draw me to Arda. The connection between us was strongest when Gandalf died, and then so did I, while Iluvatar and the Valar decided whether or not to send Gandalf back. And- -duh- -if I should go too.

Obviously, they sent us both, but my soul had not come to Middle-Earth unscathed by the lightning and my body's failure.

I needed time to heal. Iluvatar had used the seed-thing he'd made for Gandalf's granddaughter for my new body while my soul healed in Valinor. Then, conveniently while the Fellowship passed by, my body was then released into the Fields of Rohan to take my place in the War Against Sauron.

Once Gandalf had finally finished explaining all this, it was past noon, and time for lunch.

"So...I am inhabiting the body of your granddaughter?" I ask, puzzled. My food was already eaten, but I made no move to rise just yet. Gandalf's face is a mask, unreadable and unmoving.

"Yes. Your Fea- -or soul, if you wish- -was, I think, placed into the body Iluvatar made for Symberen. Her Fea was too weak, having been so young, to survive after her body died and returned to being the small seed Iluvatar begins a creation with. The Valar put the two halves together when they summoned your Fea here. Though, it might not be her specific body, just the one Iluvatar made for you, although another possibility is that you inhabit the body Symberen would have had." It's quite clear this conversation pains him, but I can't help asking more questions. I hadn't gotten so much as a hint as to _why_ I'd been chosen until now. It felt _so_ good to finally have the answers. Even if they were a bit depressing and unsettling.

"And...and my body was found in Loch Ness back in my world? My mum and dad found...they think I...oh Dia (God)." I feel sick at the thought. If only I were able to contact them, explain everything.

Then a worse thought occurs to me. They're grieving. Hearing from me _now_ would only hurt them all over again. It would do so much worse damage to talk to them after so long away, even if it had only been about a week. They were still raw from the loss. Maybe if I were to have come back in the first few days after arriving here, but...now…

Gandalf's hand on my shoulder helps calm me. It also reminds me that I have found a new family here. Gandalf Theoden, Eomer, Eowyn, and the Fellowship have become an amazing foster family for me, though Gandalf is apparently a literal family member of mine.

"I am sorry, Rowena. There is no going back now." Gandalf says, hand squeezing my shoulder. I nod, swallowing thickly.

"It doesn't matter; I've been here too long to do anything but hurt them if I were to return. Besides, I have Eomer and the Fellowship now. Not to mention a grandad." I shrug, but the tears in my eyes betray me.

"It is no easy task, telling you this, Henig." I take a deep breath and blink back the tears, nodding mutely.

"I really appreciate you telling me. I know it...it wasn't easy for you." I manage through a constricted throat. "And, like I said, I have a new family here. I wouldn't want to leave." I then remember something Gandalf had said a moment ago. "Henig?" I ask, cracking a small smile. "What does that mean?" Gandalf chuckles and wraps an arm around my shoulder.

"'My child' in Elvin." I smile, returning the hug.

"I like it. Can I call you 'Seanathair', then?" Gandalf laughs.

"Of course." I then stealthily wipe my tears away on his robes.

"Thanks." I tell him genuinely. "I think we'd better get a move on now, though." Gandalf stands.

"Quite right." He says and gives the order. I take a breath. _Wow_. That had been a _lot_ to take in at once. I bite my lip.

Basically, I had been Frankensteined into Middle-Earth to help Gandalf fight off Sauron.

 _Great_.

Riding through the rest of the day offered a chance to really process this. I was some weird version of the combination of my Fea and Symberen's intended body. My head is starting to hurt now trying to process it all. I shake myself. No use questioning it now, I guess. I just hoped I could actually help out in some way. To that end...I probably need to learn how to do more than ride and shoot my gun. I knew only a few year's worth of self-defense from a class I took years ago. I needed to touch up on those skills and learn new ones (sword and bow, for example) before I lost all my bullets and still had to fight.

For now, however, I am focusing on riding as fast as possible. It seems Seanathair is intent of reaching Meduseld before nightfall, though I don't really see how that it possible.

But still we ride hard and hope for the best.


	26. Hail the Victorious Dead

**WOULD ANYONE BE INTERESTED IN A SERIES OF ONE-SHOTS (POSTED AS A SEPARATE STORY) FEATURING SCENES ROWENA ISN'T IN, BUT THAT YOU WOULD WANT TO SEE HER IN? LIKE, HER AT THE COUNSEL OF ELROND OR THE BATTLE OF AMON HEN, FOR EXAMPLE. PLEASE LET ME KNOW AND HOPE YOU ALL LIKE THIS CHAPTER!**

 **ANYWAY, LAST THING I NEED TO DO IS TO REPLY TO THE REVIEWS.**

 **Jo: Thanks! I tried to make it meaningful and in-character and realistic. Glad to know you think I succeeded!**

 **Me and Not You 1001: First off, my entire LIFE was made by that sweet PM. Second off, I am glad you like the Rowena-Gandalf development/explanation. I was honestly nervous about posting that explanation, in case people don't like it, but I am really happy to know you do!**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

We made it to Meduseld in the wee hours of the following morning, having ridden through the night to be back at Edoras by the time Theoden had said he'd be returning. Hama had been sent out ahead of us at about five in the afternoon (or whenever we stopped for dinner) to inform those awaiting our return to make ready. So it was that, when we arrived, no one stopped us with burdensome questions as we all filed off to our beds, sinking into them gratefully and forgetting all else but sleep until morning.

=#=#=#=#=

"-ill sleeping!"

"Then rouse her. She needs breakfast." Came voices outside my door. Eomer and Halwyn. I grumble and groan, but quickly slip my pants on, not bothering with the overshirt just yet. I pull open the door.

"I'm awake." I grumble, rubbing the sleep and dried gunk from my eyes. I then manage to return Eomer's smile.

"I am sorry to wake you, lo-Rowena, but I felt it best to inform you that breakfast is being served." I nod, yawning.

"I need to get my other shirt on. Just hang on a second." I say, remembering that I wasn't technically fully dressed yet. I pull the only relatively clean tunic I have over my head before heading back out. "Lead the way, Eomer." He does, and we are soon seated at the table, me taking my usual place at Eowyn's side, but Eomer is now where Hama had once been, at Theoden's right hand, with Hama on the other.

Breakfast is a somewhat subdued affair, with Merry trying and failing to get conversation started with those in his immediate vicinity.

"What is it like, where you were, Rowena?" Pippin asks innocently. I smile, sipping water before replying.

"It was...it was a happy life, really." Pippin nods. We then have a kinda lengthy conversation about how we lived our lives, ending somehow with how music played into them. "I like to listen to music whenever possible, really. Sadly, it isn't as often as I'd like. I do know several songs by heart, though. I like to sing or hum them to myself as I work sometimes." Pippin smiles happily.

"As do I!" His eyes than light with a playful, merry fire. "What would you say to teaching me and my first cousin, Merry, a song? We would love to sing with you during tonight's victory feast, if that's alright, Miss Rowena." I do a double take at that before realizing that it actually isn't a half-bad idea. After all, I may as well integrate my culture as best I could to Middle-Earth's more medieval themes and vice versa. It could even be fun. I smile.

"Of course! I'd love that, if you teach me one of your songs in return." I propose and we shake on it.

Now, I just had to think of a song.

=#=#=#=#=

Turns out, I picked 'Best Day of My Life' by American Authors as the song to teach Merry and Pippin. It seemed fairly appropriate for the victory feast, and I hope the people of Edoras would appreciate it. Merry and Pippin thoroughly enjoyed the process, sitting on a blanket in the fields surrounding the gated city. I figured everyone would get irritated with our repeated singing of the same song. I'd written down the lyrics and sang it so they could pick up the tune.

"What song are you going to sing?" Merry asks after the twentieth time running through the song. I blanch.

"I- -Well...I...I actually hadn't thought about it." I then shrug. "Not like I'd be asked to sing beyond the one you all teach me." I point out. Pippin pokes my side.

"Of course they would- -or _should_ , anyway! You have a talent for singing! You shouldn't care what others think about it, just use it!" I laugh and hug him. Yeah, he was a little brother alright.

"Thanks, Pip. Now, about the song we're going to sing that's from Arda…" And away we went again.

=#=#=#=#=

It was with an almost giddy kind of anxiety that I french-braided my hair and twirled it into a rose-esque looking bun, pinning it down and tying it off with slightly shaky fingers. Humming and mentally singing the song I'd just learned today from Merry and Pippin.

The dress I was wearing was soft, nearly ethereal emerald green. Eowyn insisted I wear it with a simple braided leather belt around my waist. My boots felt oddly casual and inappropriate with the more formal dress, but as of now, they were my only option. Eowyn's feet were just a bit too small for me to use her shoes.

Then came a knock on the door.

"Come in." I say and my voice is shockingly steady as I tuck the final pins into place and take a final breath before standing to greet whoever's at the door.

"It's nearly time, my love. Are you ready?" Eomer asks, poking his head in. I nod, taking his proffered arm.

"As I'll ever be." I'm led out to the main dining area, which is crowded with people getting ready to sit and eat the feast. I then try to step away from Eomer and join the main group (it wasn't my place in a formal feast like this to be too familiar with Eomer, even though we were courting; no one knew yet and it wouldn't do to feed any rumors flying around) when Eomer grips my arm tighter.

"You are to be my guest at the head table." He says. "By Uncle's request." Slightly embarrassed, but knowing the courtship would come out sooner or later anyway, I nod and take a seat next to Eomer. Eowyn grins at me and the feat starts.

=#=#=#=#=

Feasting at the head table may have been excused as just Theoden honoring a guest (the Fellowship was further down the head table, as well), but what happened next could only be taken as Eomer and I being in a relationship.

Theoden stands, the feast all but completed, and Eomer does as well. Eowyn vanishes and before I can ask why, I am being guided to stand by Eomer's hands on my elbows. Confused, I suddenly find myself standing on the throne dais beside Eomer. He just smiles at me as Eowyn approaches with a goblet of what I assume is ale. There's a small but genuine smile on the woman's face and I can't help a smile myself. Theoden smiles at his niece before a more somber expression takes over. I feel a sense of formality and tradition pervade the hall almost tangibly as everyone stands. I swallow, but Eomer's hand taking mine calms and grounds me again.

"Tonight, we remember those that gave their blood to defend this country that others might live to enjoy it." Theoden says somberly and with an air of regal authority, glancing at Eomer and I subtly, never raising his voice, but so total was the silence around the hall that everyone hears him. "Hail the victorious dead!" If anyone had caught Theoden's drift, they are forgetting it in the next moment as they raise their tankards and mugs and goblets as one, crying 'Hail!' en masse before drinking. There is silence for a minute, then Theoden waves a hand, and the gathered crowd slowly begin to talk amongst themselves, polishing off the remnants of food they hadn't gotten to before intermingling and chatting with the other people gathered. I am grateful to be out of the limelight as I step off the dais. Almost immediately, Eothain and a pretty Rohir woman about my age approach.

"Figured we'd offer our condolences first, milady." He muses wryly with a smirk. I laugh.

"No need. I am quite sure of what I am getting into." I reply. Eothan looks playfully taken aback.

"Well." He says with wry grin. "In that case, I'd like to introduce my wife, Mesuhilde." I nod as she does.

"Pleasure." I assure her genuinely. "I am Rowena." She smiles.

"I know. Eothain told me a lot of about you. I did also witness your leadership in the Caves. Quite impressive plan for one so unused to battle and war." I flush.

"R-right. Just seemed a good idea at the time." I mumble. Mesuhilde smiles gently at me.

"It was. You are a fine commander." I then recall that I had essentially abandoned my subordinates when I'd left the Caves.

"Did you all have a hard time with the Orcs after I left, or..?" Mesuhilde shakes her head.

"Your weapon did its job. We hardly met a single Orc beyond those that initially broken in. Pity; I only slew two." She says in a good-natured manner. I shake my head in the same manner.

"Amatuer." I quip back playfully, laughing with the others for a moment before Eothain and Mesuhilde take their leave and we are left alone again. Many more people had seen through the thinly veiled announcement that Eomer and I were courting and offered their congratulations. I found it all a bit superfluous. After all, it wasn't like we were getting married or anything.

 _Yet_.

Mead in hand, I worked with Eomer to dispense more ale, wine and mead to the thirsty partiers. It shocked the both of us when Legolas strides up with Gimli and the Dwarf demands the strongest ale available for the both of them, the Elf appearing half-confused as to what was happening. Gimli then leans in and informs us of a drinking contest he wanted to hold between himself and Legolas.

"No pauses, no spills." Eomer explains, handing the pair their first mug of ale.

"And no regurgitation!" Gimli interrupts eagerly. Legolas frowns.

"So it's a drinking game you wanted?" Gimli nods, chuckling with an evil glee.

"Last one standing wins." I roll my eyes as Legolas picks up his mug, eyeing it curiously.

"Have you never had ale before, Legolas?" I ask, genuinely curious. He shrugs.

"Never. Mostly, Elves drink wine. Or at least, those in the country I hail from do." And with that, Gimli starts drinking, eager to get a headstart on the Elf, although the number of mugs doesn't count unless they fall at the same time. Legolas, however, takes the slower, calmer route. I decide to handle pouring mugs for Legolas, as he won't need as quick a hand as Gimli. About halfway through the contest, however, a band starts getting ready to play and Merry and Pippin are suddenly hoisting themselves to a point at which we can hold a conversation.

"Like old times, eh, Rowena?" Pippin quips with a wink. I laugh. No. not even close.

"It wasn't an incredibly popular tavern I worked at." I confess. "Only on _really_ busy nights was it like _this_." I am trying to stall the boys until the contest is over, but then am saved by Halwyn's appearance. She is smiling knowingly at me.

"I was passing by when the Halflings suggested the singing at breakfast. With the band starting to settle themselves, you'll need to get going." I nod gratefully.

"Thanks. Eomer, I'll be back in a minute, okay?" He nods, already handing Gimli his sixth mug as I hand Legolas his fourth. Halwyn then slips by me before I allow Merry and Pippin to take my hands and all but drag me over to a table that we were going to sing on, evidently. I feel a bit sad I won't see who wins the drinking game, but a promise is a promise. "Which song are we singing first?" I ask. They consider it for a moment.

"Perhaps the one from here first, as the band will know the tune." I nod.

"Good idea." I then take a sip of mead to moisten my dry throat before we climb onto the wood. By then, Merry and Pippin are shouting the name of the song to the band, who all nod and strike up the tune. Immediately, the conversation around us seems to vanish and there's nothing but the table and the Hobbits to worry about. Poor Hobbits can't quite dance with me the way they can with each other, but that hardly stops them. We whirl and spin and clap and stomp and it is the most fun I think I have ever had.

"You can search far and wide.

You can drink the whole town dry.

But you'll never find a beer so brown,

But you'll never find a beer so brown,

As the one we drink in our hometown."

At this point, I've lost all sense of embarrassment or shame I might have felt at my behavior at the moment, too lost in my mead and dancing to notice or care about the looks and murmurs I was getting as I twirled without grace under Merry's arm, going right to twirling with Pippin next.

"You can keep your fancy ales!

You can drink them by the flagon!

But the only brew for the brave and true,"

It was then that something odd happened; Pippin stopped singing and dancing all of a sudden, and it took Merry's well-timed grab of my arm and swing into another dance routine to stop me from face-planting on the table. There's an odd look in Pip's eyes and they're fixed on Seanathair. Huh?! It almost seems like Pippin is holding a silent conversation with the wizard. I frown. What on Earth would they be looking like _that_ about?

"Pippin!" Merry barks, twirling me about again, at his first cousin's lack of manners and odd behavior, but in the next second Pippin is grinning and singing again, pulling me in for a dip before sending me spinning back into Merry's arms as we sing the final line, all lined up.

"But the only brew for the brave and true…

Comes from the Green Dragon!"

We conclude, dropping our arms and clinking our mugs together before slurping our beverages as one.

"Thank you! I win!" I hear Merry call out. I laugh.

"There was no competition, Merry." I point out, drowned out by the screams for an encore. We all three grin at each other. Now was the time for 'Best Day of My Life' if ever there was one. We agree to sing another song in a second as we refresh our tankards. Then, it's back up on the table.

"Now, we have a real treat for you all!" Merry roars out to the crowd. "We have a song from Rowena's world! I know it won't have music, but we hope you all enjoy it!" And with that, we began stomping to the beat, clapping to add more of an idea about the tune.

"I had a dream so big and loud,

I jumped so high I touched the clouds!

Whoah-oh-oh oh oh-ho-oh!

Whoah-oh-oh oh oh-ho-oh!

I stretched my hands out to the sky,

We danced with monsters through the night!

Whoah-oh-oh oh oh-ho-oh!

Whoah-oh-oh oh oh-ho-oh!"

By the time we were finished, the surrounding people were stomping and clapping along with us, even singing the repeated parts with gusto, even if they were a bit off-tempo and horribly off-key. It was all good fun. Then, came the audience demanding I try my hand at a solo. I bashfully tried to back out, but then was all but frog-marched back onto that darn table. I sucked down a gulp of mead and cleared my throat. 'When We Stand Together' by Nickelback came to mind, as it seemed to fit Rohan's wild, raucous personality just right. I began to sing with as loud a voice as I could manage.


	27. Waiting for War

**Yasminasfeir1: Thanks so much! I was, as I have said, a bit anxious about the reception of my explanation, and am pleasantly surprised by the positive reviews. Honestly blows my mind. Yeah, Merry and Pip act like little brothers for Rowena, who is starting to accept that she is in Middle-Earth and that there's no way back now. Thanks again for the reviews!**

 **Me and Not You 1001: I know not everyone will know the songs I choose, but I feel they fit the situation at least adequately and thus I used them. I felt like singing was a fairly large part of Tolkien's world and I wanted to utilise (but hopefully not abuse) that notion in my story.**

 **Yeah, Theoden was none- too-subtle with that hint there, and now everyone in Meduseld at the time knows. ;)**

 **I am incredibly happy to know you like this story and the chapters I post! It really means a lot.**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

As the song faded, everyone toasted their neighbor and drained their mugs, and I followed suite almost without thinking.

Good thing, too, seeing as I was yanked down to the crowd and sent crowd-surfing like a rockstar toward some point I was too dizzy and tipsy to really register until I was all but ground against Eomer, still bartending for Meduseld. Then, our lips crashed against each other and I braced against his chest, our eyes wide in shock, then sliding closed in bliss. Everyone was whistling and cheering jauntily, but I couldn't care about that. The feeling seeping deeper than my bones of bliss, warmth, and love drowned that all out.

Then we broke apart, giddily smiling at each other. Everyone seems slightly surprised that we weren't embarrassed or ashamed. Eowyn stands the most shocked, I think, and I grin at her in elation and she grins back, as if to say 'what in the world?' to our courtship. I shrug to say 'it just happened' and that was that.

From there, it was all a blur of handing out drinks until, slowly, the hall's population dwindled. All of a sudden, I was in a side hall, handing out blankets to the passed out drunks with no clue how I'd gotten there. Most of the residents didn't move, out cold, but some were still conscious enough to at least slur out something resembling thanks to which I just smiled and moved along to the next partier.

When I got to Merry and Pippin, they asked me to sit with them for a while, as they were suffering both drunken dizziness and a small dose of motion sickness from overdoing it with the twirls. If I were honest, I was a bit nauseous, but nothing too serious.

"Can you sing a lullaby from your world?" Pippin asks suddenly, a look similar to the one he'd had during our barsong, when he'd stopped to look at Seanathair. It almost seems like he is battling against something he knows, deep down, he shouldn't do, but is drawn toward, regardless, his asking for a lullaby a plea for a distraction from that internal conflict. I frown for a moment, but set that aside for now and sigh, chuckling. What harm could it do? Automatically, I started gently stroking hair from Pippin's face before moving my fingertips slowly over his face in random patterns, touch light and soothing. It was a ritual I performed countless times for Jerry and Willow in my youth and up til...til I went to college. They'd always asked me to, and I had always obliged. It was our tradition, but one I didn't mind sharing. I sang 'Sleepsong' by Secret Garden and by the time I am done, I have succeeded in lulling the pair to sleep. I smile and stand, lilting a little as I steady myself. Eomer is suddenly hugging me from behind and I melt into the embrace.

"It appears Uncle took the initiative in revealing our courtship." He murmurs softly, mindful of the Hobbits and other sleeping residents of Meduseld around us. I smile.

"No going back now," I quip wryly and I can tell he picks up that I was joking, "but it isn't like we weren't going to announce it soon, right?" I point out. Eomer nods.

"I feel the same way. Evidently so did my uncle." We chuckle at that and Eomer directs me toward my room. "Come. It is late and we are weary." He says gently. I yawn into the back of my hand, comfortably warm and fuzzy due to the three or more tankards I'd had tonight, be it only mead. We walk unhurriedly, content in the sudden peace after the fabulous but tiring party now ended. Soon enough, I stand in the hall leading to my loaned bedroom and I find myself halting, deliberating. Something in the back of my head makes me want to check on Merry and Pippin, but I know they're asleep. And yet...I deliberate. Just for a second too long.

"Love? What is it?" Eomer asks, just as an unsettlingly foreboding feeling makes my senses stand on end, tensed for a reason I can't understand, so I force my face into a more neutral expression.

"Oh, I just left my, uh, boots in the side hall." It wasn't strictly a lie; I _had_ left my boots there, but they wouldn't be touched until morning, so I felt no urge to get them. "Go on. I'll head straight to bed after I- -" Then, I hear a soft _thump_ and the sound of a worried voice.

Merry's, calling what sounded suspiciously like Pippin's name! Eomer and I hurry back. Just in time, too, because the sight that greeted us was distressing beyond belief; Pippin writhing on the floor in agony, lips open in a soundless scream, and Merry, worried out of his mind, helpless to ease his younger cousin's suffering. All he could do was call for help. It took only a second longer to figure out what was the problem. Pippin had the Seeing-Stone in his hands, and the flames I saw in it when Saruman held it out seemed to be leaping from the glass and scorching the Halfling's hands. I ran forward, but evidently Aragorn (appearing out of nowhere) had the same idea I had. Get that thing away from Pippin ASAP.

Unfortunately, he made the mistake of grabbing the thing and wrenching it from Pippin's hands. Aragorn himself then started to squirm and twist in pain, but couldn't seem to be able to let the thing go. I balled my hands together in a fist and knocked the thing out of my friend's hands, causing more pain than I thought it should, sending it rolling away. I then knelt there, panting.

When my skin connected with the stone...I saw something. It was like an eye, a horrid, lidless eye that belonged to something ancient and more evil than anything I'd known before. I don't think it had fully registered me, but I had definitely seen it. It was _horrid_. I then scramble up, remembering Pippin. The poor halfling isn't moving or even registering anything. I support his head in my lap, gently smoothing hair away from his unseeing eyes. But no response came from Pippin, and I nearly sob in desperation. Seanathair is sprinting past me, cloth in hand, tossing it over the stone in contempt before whirling on us.

"Fool of a Took!" He barks in an angry, sharp tone, but upon fully taking in the sight of Pippin's still body, he softens and comes hurrying over, all but tossing Merry out of the way. Once he was looked over Pippin for a moment, Seanathair places a gentle, caring hand on the Hobbit's forehead, closing his eyes and mumbling beautiful and strange words under his breath.

For a horribly long moment, nothing at all happens. Then, Pippin gasps with a slight raggedness to it, like his throat was almost too dry to make a sound. But he's moving and alive again and that's all that matters. Pippin looks drained and exhausted, but most of all terrified. I sooth him gently, assuring him that everything's alright now.

"Look at me." Seanathair commands gently, and Pippin does.

"Gandalf," He rasps, panting, "forgive me." He mumbles, cringing into my lap as if expecting a blow.

"Look at me." Seanathair says again, and Pippin once more opens his eyes. "What did you see?" He asks. Pippin doesn't answer, the memory clearly a painful one.

"Pip, we need you to tell us. You're not in danger or trouble." I assure him. Pippin then licks his lips.

"A tree." He mumbles, "There was a white tree in a courtyard of stone." He says slowly, eyes filling with terror and fear. "It was dead." I frown. How could seeing a dead tree make him _this_ scared? "And it was burning." He adds in a whimper. Again, how does that instill so much fear into this poor little Hobbit? The tension in the atmosphere grows as Pippin's tale halts and he squints his eyes shut as if the sight were still before him.

"Minas Tirith?" Seanathair asks. "Is that what you saw?" I don't ask what Minas Tirith is. I know it isn't the time for stupid questions. Pippin then cowers into me again and swallows thickly.

"I saw…" Another pause. Bloody Ifreann, what's making him so tense and afraid? "I saw _him_!" Pippin squeaks in terror. The tension I thought was bad before escalates to unspeakable proportion at this news and I find I don't need to ask who they were talking about; Sauron, the guy that was controlling Saruman before the Worm killed him. "I could hear his voice in my head!" I put a hand on each of Pippin's shoulders to try and help him calm down and keep going.

"What did you tell him?" Seanathair asks in what I am afraid to say is terror. Or at least, the closest thing to fear I've yet to hear in my kind-of grandfather's voice. "Speak!" He orders with less calm than before. Pippin flinches, but recovers in a moment and licks his lips.

"He asked me my name. I didn't answer." The Hobbit whimpers. I lick my own lips in fear of where this was going, but there was a rage at Sauron building steadily beneath it, especially at Pip's next words. "He hurt me!" My teeth grind together and, Dark Lord or not, I decide that I wanted a few words with Sauron about his treatment of my foster brother/friend.

"What did you tell him about Frodo and the Ring?" Seanathair asks desperately and I can't help but wonder what that means. It's clear that is it important- -vitally so- -but I can't understand _why_. Pippin is silent for a long moment, then takes one more breath and speaks.

"I didn't tell him anything, but it hurt so bad, I nearly spilled everything!" He says, in guilt, shame and fear. His hand seeks mine and clutches it tightly to ward off tears. I rub the back of his hand with my thumb in a comforting gesture as Seanathair stands, ignoring a sudden pain in my hands as I do do.

"That is good. All is not lost, as I feared." Seanathair says. "I apologize for my desperation and fear, Pippin, but I needed swift answers." Pippin nods absently, and it takes a moment to figure out why he's distracted.

"Rowena, your hands!" He squeaks, sitting bolt upright. I look down and sure enough, the skin where my hands touched the stone are slightly steaming and burned. I frown. How had I not noticed before? "Are you alright?" Pippin asks worriedly. I blink.

"Y-yeah, I..I'm fine. I hadn't even noticed before."

"How did that happen?" He asks. I shrug.

"I don't know."

Seanathair gently takes my hands in his own. "These burns are fortunately superficial and will heal in hardly any time. Our kind have a remarkable healing ability, I've discovered." I frown.

"But...I'm not like you, Seanathair." I point out as Seanathair wraps my hands in bandages from within his robes. "I'm not a witch or whatever else you call female magic wielders here." Seanathair sighs.

"You are of direct relation to me, and as such, you are a part of the Istari, an ancient race sent here in days long past to guard Arda and its peoples from Sauron's return."

"But I can't do magic!" I protest. Seanathair nods.

"Not in the way I wield it, Henig, but you are blessed with the instinctive wisdom and insight we of the Istari possess. To give what you are a proper title, you belong to the Istarindi, and are the last of that line surviving, I fear." I sag a little under the weight of Seanathair's words. He then gently pulls me up, not touching the burned areas. "You have done an old man proud, and now we must take counsel on our next move. We will have to be swift, if Pippin's news means what I fear it does." Seanathair then sweeps out of the room, beckoning us all with him. I, however, halt for a moment and offer a hand to Pippin, who stands without it and kicks his feet sheepishly.

"I'm sorry I caused you to get hurt." He mumbles. I chuckle.

"Oh, Pip, I'd do it a thousand times over, and worse, if it meant you were alright." I assure him, arm around his shoulder. "Now, come on. Seanathair wants us all at the meeting."

=#=#=#=#=

"There was no lie in Pippin's eyes." Seanathair says with no small amount of relief. "A fool, but an honest fool he remains." He continues with a hint of thinly veiled fondness behind the slightly exasperated tone he used now. "He told Sauron nothing of Frodo and the Ring." I cross my arms at the almost shock in my grandfather's voice.

"Did you _expect_ him to?" The words had left my mouth before I could rein them back in. Seanathair turns to me with a look that betrayed his shock.

"No, but lesser men than Peregrine Took have fallen at Sauron's hands when the Dark Lord desires information." I nod, feeling hot in the face and foolish.

"Sorry." He shrugs and turns back to Theoden and the others gathered here.

"We have been strangely fortunate." He says, as if I hadn't interrupted. Seeing the dejected, defeated look on Pippin's face, and the worried, concerned (yet somehow almost angry) face on Merry, I move to sit next to Pippin, putting an arm around his shoulder. "Pippin saw in the Palantir a glimpse of the Enemy's plan. Since my conversation with Saruman, I have sensed that Sauron will move hard and swift at any moment, which is the reason I called for a muster of the men of Rohan to prepare to ride for Minas Tirith should the beacons be lit. It seems my foresight is not wasted."

"The messengers will deliver the message before nightfall today, if I am not in error." Theoden replies. Seanathair nods.

"That is good. Sauron moves to strike Minas Tirith and Rohan must be able to answer swiftly if called. His defeat at Helm's Deep showed Sauron two things: he knows the Heir of Elendil has come forth, and Men are not as weak as he supposed. There is courage still, and strength, perhaps, enough to challenge him. Sauron knows this; he will not risk the Free Peoples of Middle-Earth uniting under one banner again." Something about grandad's speech sets a fire in me that makes me feel ready to take on the world as I stand and move to join the conversation.

"Which means that we're gonna have to show that strength if we are to finally be rid of this Voldemort-wannabe, right?" I ask, just to clarify. Seanathair's eyes twinkle in amusement that doesn't overtake his worry and stress, but it is enough for me to crack a smirk. It's about time I made a Voldemort joke.

"Indeed. But he will raze Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees a king return." Seanathair replies. "If the Beacons of Minas Tirith are lit, Rohan _must_ be ready for war!" Theoden nods.

"The Oath of Eorl will not be forsaken." He assures the wizard with a grave seriousness. Seanathair seems comforted, so I can assume this 'Oath of Eorl' is a good thing.

"I will ride for Gondor." Aragorn says in a matter-of-fact tone that makes Seanathair whirl around to face him.

"No!" He barks, leaving no room for argument. It surprises me sometimes just how vehement the wizard can be without resorting to shouting.

"Gondor _must_ be warned!" Aragorn protests.

"They _will_ be." Seanathair is quick to assure the dark-haired man. Seanathair then leans in to tell Aragorn something in confidence, something meant only for the Fellowship leader's ears. Once grandad is done, Aragorn looks puzzled, reluctant, and almost incredulous all at once at what he was told. I find myself nearly asking what it was, but then bite my tongue. If Seanathair wanted everyone to know, he wouldn't have whispered so softly. "Understand this, all of you;" He says gravely as he turns to address the whole group once more, and I subconsciously move forward. "things are now in motion that cannot be undone. I ride for Minas Tirith."

"What?" I ask. "We need you here!" I protest. Seanathair smiles.

"Hardly, Henig. I have given all the counsel I can give at present. I am now needed in Gondor, more than ever it seems. And moreover, I won't be going alone." I frown, but then pale as Seanathair turns to Pippin. _No_!


	28. Waiting for War part II

**Me and Not You 1001: I was not mad or anything. I knew well in advance that not everyone would get the songs and references I use in this story. We just miscommunicated there, I think. My bad. Anyway, yes, the Battle of Pellenor Fields is approaching, but I don't really want to skip** _ **too**_ **much of the in-between. There's still a chunk of plot-ground to cover before we get to that** _ **amazing**_ **scene, so hang tight! It'll be a rough ride when we get there.**

 **P.S: No need to hunt me down. Rowena is quite safe! ;)**

 **JJAndrews: Hey there! Welcome back! ;) Once again, I am** _ **thrilled**_ **to hear your thoughts on my story so far! Thanks for explaining and taking the time to get information about gun laws in Scotland. For some reason, it was also amusing to me, in a good way. Anyway, I am not sure if this is legal, but what if her uncle bought it for a legitimate reason, then gave it to her as a gift? Would that be okay?**

 **Jo: Thanks, I think. ;) Seriously, though, I am** _ **super**_ **pleased that you are enjoying my story.**

 **Emperor DeLacus: Welcome to the family, buddy! I am really heppy that you like my story so much! (^.^) *blushes* I am still being blown over (in a good way) by all the love and attention this story is getting! This is my first large-scale project and I am so happy it's being so well received!**

 **You only had to look at the description to know she was going to end up with Eomer, but I am happy you enjoyed the way I handled the rising feelings between them. They are a cute couple to me, though mine is a biased view! ;) Glad you think the Gandalf-Rowena dynamic was a good idea. I was a bit nervous diving into it like that, but am glad it payed off!**

 **PHEW, THAT WAS A LOT! HOPE YOU ENJOY THE CHAPTER!**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

" _No_!" I bark. "Seanathair, come on!"

"It must be done." He says gently.

" _Why_?"

"Because if there are consequences of his experience with the Palantir, I would rather he be where I can be of help to him. And what's more, Sauron is now convinced that it is a Hobbit that has the Ring and that Pippin is that Hobbit. I must protect Pippin as best I can. I can only do that if he is with me." I process his words for a long moment before sagging.

"Curse you and your logic." I grumble.

"Oi!" Merry pipes up. "Shouldn't Pip have a say in this?"

"I'm afraid not." Seanathair says gently. "Worry not; I shall look after him." He says, leading a heavy-footed Pippin to the door. It seems Seanathair always meant to ride to Minas Tirith, for a satchel is waiting by the doors of the Golden Hall and he slings it over his shoulder as he walks out. I put an arm around Pippin's shoulder again.

"Don't worry." I tell him.

"I don't even know what's happening." He counters sadly. "I never seem to." I exhale as I try and think of how to respond.

"Pip, listen. You made a mistake, yes, but that's hardly reason to wallow in guilt. That's something I've been learning since I arrived here."

"But I nearly gave us all up!" He protests. I swallow.

"Didn't you see me at Isengard? I was ready to hand over my weapon before I snapped out of it. Don't be too hard on yourself." I reply. He sighs.

"I'll try."

"Hurry! Hurry!" Seanathair calls from ahead of us. Pippin reluctantly increases his pace. Merry, just ahead of us, hasn't spoken a word to Pippin since the incident and I have a feeling it won't be pretty when he does talk.

"Where are we going?" Pippin asks Merry to try and start a conversation.

"Minas Tirith." I reply before Merry opens his- -too late.

"Why'd you look?" He asks with a sharpness to his tone I can't help but be shocked at. "Why do you _always_ have to look?!"

"Merry, please." I try, but the Hobbit merely glares at me over his shoulder.

"I don't know." Pippin says placatingly. "I can't help it." Merry scoffs.

"You never can."

"Merry!" I bark, frowning.

"I'm sorry, alright?!" Pippin cries, desperate to try and make amends with his cousin. "I won't do it again." It's such a childlike response, I can't help but groan.

"Pippin, please try to understand; this is _serious_! There's more at stake than 'I won't do it again' can cover."

"But I don't understand at all!" Pippin protests fearfully. I kneel down to his level.

"The Seeing-Stone is a dangerous tool. When you touched it, Sauron saw you. That makes you a target." I explain.

"The Enemy thinks you have the Ring." Merry adds when Pippin still looks confused. I don't know what that means, but it's enough to make Pip pale. "He's going to be looking for you, Pip." Merry explains with a touch of growing worry and concern to his voice. "They've got to get you out of here." Pippin swallows, frowning.

"And you- -you're coming with me, both of you, right?" I sigh heavily and stand, not having the heart to tell him that no, I wasn't. Apparently, Merry doesn't, either, merely walking away toward the stable. Our silence means more than words and Pippin's eyes dim in despair.

"Come on." I say softly. "Seanathair's waiting." In a flash, Pippin is on Shadowfax and Seanathair prepares to mount, as well.

"How far is Minas Tirith?" Pippin asks with forced calm.

"Three days ride, as the Nazgul flies." Seanathair replies. "And you better _hope_ we don't have one of those on our tail." He adds grimly. Whatever 'Nazgul' means, it strikes another spike of fear into Pippin's fragile little heart and another sliver of hope dies in him. Merry then comes forward, a grave and worried gaze fixed on his first cousin.

"Here; a little something for the road." He explains, handing a pouch to Pippin, who eyes it with a mixture of bewilderment, fear, and concern.

"The last of the long bottom leaf." Pippin breaths, frowning.

"I know you've run out." Merry mumbles. "You smoke too much, Pippin." Despite the awful weight of everything, despite the somber atmosphere, I crack a small smile. Those two...were too cute! If I didn't know better, I'd say they were brothers- -maybe even twins- -but not first cousins. Pippin didn't look reassured at all as Seanathair heaved himself onto the resplendent white horse.

"But we'll see each other soon? Won't we?" I tear up at the worried, lost, and honest-to-goodness terrified expression on the little Hobbit's face.

"I don't know." Is all Merry can manage, looking as helpless as I felt. "I don't know what's going to happen." He adds dejectedly, face falling over a cliff into an abyss I didn't know how to get it out of.

"But Seanathair will look after you. Just stick with him, alright?" I say, trying for a smile, but end up nearly sobbing all of a sudden. Pip fails to be reassured (duh) and I can't blame him as I bite my lip in despair; how had it come to this? How could someone so young look so...so lost and broken? I take a deep breath and open my eyes to see Seanathair leaning toward me.

"Learn what you can about Middle-Earth and the Fellowship while you wait for the beacons. And do not be afraid to do what you know is right, no matter if others would dissuade you." He advices me. I bite my lip again and nod, crossing my arms.

"...Right." Seanathair nods, then looks at the back of Shadowfax's head.

"Ride, Shadowfax!" He calls in a commanding tone like the one he used to cure Theoden. "Show us the meaning of haste!"

"Merry! Winnie!" Pippin calls desperately, as if asking us to wake him up from a nightmare, voice the youngest I've heard him use. I can't help a sob, the tears finally sliding down my cheeks. Beside me, Merry is choking back tears himself. I am shocked when Merry takes off running and even more so when I follow him. I don't know his plan, but I didn't want him to be alone.

Turns out, Merry was heading to a nearby watchtower. Only to literally run into Aragorn along the way.

"S-sorry." Merry mumbles politely before sprinting off again. Aragorn and I exchange a look before taking off after him. I clamber over corners and take the stairs two at a time, narrowly avoiding a collision with a guard on his way up the tower. I apologize over my shoulder and keep moving, calling Merry's name almost in sync with Aragorn. Finally, we stop running on the top of the tower and Merry presses himself against the wall, looking out over Edoras and beyond, watching a lone white figure ride into the distance. "He's always followed me, everywhere I went, since before we were tweens." Merry muses sadly, yet with undeniable fondness. "I would get him into the worst sort of trouble, but I was always there to get him out." Aragorn smiles minutely and places an arm comfortingly around Merry's shoulders as I do the same from the other side, the three of us probably looking like some happy family staring into the sunset for a commercial of some kind. Except we weren't very happy right now, although we were practically family. "And now he's gone." Merry adds, voice wavering close to breaking, "Just like Frodo and Sam." At that, his voice does break, and a single tear slides down his cheek. I hug him closer to me.

"Meh. He's got Seanathair. He'll be alright." I point out with more hope than I feel at the moment.

"One thing I've learned about Hobbits," Aragorn adds "is that they are a most hardy folk."

"Foolhardy, maybe." Merry retorts, managing a small grin at his own quip. "He's a Took." That reminds me of Seanathair's words, but before I can ask about what the frick is going on, Merry and Aragorn turn to me.

"You have been addressing Gandalf by a strange name lately, ever since your conversation during our return to Edoras." Aragorn muses. I flush.

"We-well, it just means 'grandad' where I'm from."

"And is he really your grandfather? Or is he something else?" I swallow.

"I don't know, and neither truly does he, I think. But, actual relation or not, we've started to become almost like grandfather and granddaughter, so why not address him as such, right?"

"And that is why he calls you his child in Elvish." Aragorn says, a declaration of facts. I nod.

"Bin- -yes." I say, remembering that they wouldn't know what 'bingo' is and I was not up to explaining. "Sooo...I take it you heard all that about my coming to Middle-Earth, huh?" Aragorn and Merry nod, but Merry has the good grace to at least look a little sheepish to Aragorn's unapologetic look. I roll my eyes.

"It's relatively hard not to overhear a conversation when you share a horse with one of those involved." Merry mumbles. I nod.

"I suppose. Okay, time for _my_ questions; what or who is Frodo and why does a ring warrant the Voldemort of Middle-Earth torturing a Hobbit like that?" I ask, realizing I was blunt and not caring.

"I am not sure that is the best idea…" Merry started, looking quite out of his depth, looking at Aragorn for guidance.

"No, Merry, it is alright." He says slowly, eyeing me curiously. "May I ask where the sudden curiosity came from?" I nod.

"You may. Seanathair suggested I bone up on my knowledge of...any and everything here, but really I just want to know what this Fellowship is and how a ring plays into it." And from there, I get a different version- -this one more detailed and thankfully more informative- -than the one I'd heard on the way to Isengard. Turns out, in the 'second age' of Middle-Earth, Sauron had made these rings that gave the wearer immense power, but at the cost of him worming his way (much like Saruman and Theoden) into your very soul, twisting it to his wicked, cruel will. _Anything_ to do with Sauron had an unnatural, dark attraction to it, and then Sauron was discovered as a Dark Lord and more or less banished. From there, 'history has lost the tales', but somehow a Hobbit named Bilbo Baggins (Frodo's uncle, apparently) had come across it during an adventure involving thirteen dwarves and a mountain inhabited by a dragon. I vaguely remember that story as _the Hobbit_ , a book my dad had read to us kids many times in my youth. Before he switched jobs and became more distant, travelling nine weeks out of ten, felt like.

Anyway, this Fellowship just sorta...agreed to help this Frodo guy get a big, bad Ring to a place called Mordor (I remember Eomer saying it was the home of Sauron and everything evil under the sun) and destroy it in a volcano that gave off 'the Fires of Mount Doom', which was (of _course_ ) the only way to destroy that tiny band of metal.

Boromir, turns out, had died after falling under the Ring's power for a moment and trying to wrest it from Frodo. Upon regaining his senses, Boromir defended Merry and Pippin to his last breath, even though they'd ended up captured anyway. The darkest, gravest look I'd ever seen befell Merry's face at this part of the story. It's clear he suffers from survivor's guilt, same as I had when Theodred...when Theodred couldn't be saved.

"As I told Pippin, you make mistakes, yes, but wallowing in guilt and not moving forward are just as bad. Learn from your mistakes and they won't happen again." I point out, nudging the Hobbit's shoulder before turning to the man beside me. "So, Aragorn, I have an idea." He cocks a brow at me.

"Oh? Do tell."

"Um...I'd like to learn the sword or the bow or both." I confess. "I can't rely on my gun forever and if I run out of bullets in the heat of battle, I need to be able to defend myself." Aragorn sighs.

"Sword and bow take years to master and I fear we do not have the time." I grin.

"Well, it's a good thing my uncle convinced my parents to sign me up for a year of fencing classes, then."

"How would learning to build fences help you learn the sword?" Aragorn asks, genuinely confused. I can't help but laugh.

"No, it's a kind of swordplay." He frowns.

"Let's see it, then." I pale.

"Oh, now? O-okay. Sure." I get up and walk down the tower with Aragorn. Once we're in an open area, he bids me wait for a moment and soon returns with two nicked practice swords. Oh, boy. We were _really_ doing this, huh?

 _Oh, get over it!_ I scold myself. _You're acting like a child! You_ wanted _to do this, right? Now do it!_

So I did.


	29. Concerning Riding and Questions

I AM NOT INTENTIONALLY DRAWING THIS STORY OUT WITH FILLER, PROMISE! I JUST WANT TO DO THIS STORY RIGHT AND NOT SKIMP ON STUFF JUST BECAUSE IT WOULD BE EASIER THAT WAY.

AND I WAS SERIOUS ABOUT THOSE OTHER SCENES I MENTIONED. LET ME KNOW, PEOPLE! ANYWAY, ON TO THE REVIEWS:

Jo: I hope to keep that sentiment alive for the rest of my story, believe me. Thanks for your brief, but kind reviews!

Me and Not You 1001: Rowena is just nervous about actually using her fencing 'skills' (rusty and almost nonexistent in her mind) in an actual sparring match with someone who is very good with a sword. Is that what you meant by 'what's wrong with Rowena's fencing?'? If not, please PM me and we can talk it out there.

JJAndrews: I did a bit of 4-h BB stuff in my youth and have only done archery about once in my life. I wish her luck, too, cus knowing me, she'll need it! ;)

I don't know what about the gun laws thing makes me laugh, but I legit laughed out loud for a good minute. So, yes, I would say you succeeded! :)

God bless and good day!

~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER

Aragorn and I squared off, a few bystanders pausing to see what was going on. I knew that this would not be like fencing, so I swallowed my nerves down, gripped my sword like Aragorn held his, and let him make the first move. He charged, swinging overhead at first, but then switched and swung at my legs instead. I knock the sword aside and jab at his chest. Either he was taking it really easy on me or I was enjoying beginner's luck.

Either way, my sword connected and Aragorn grunts, but doesn't react beyond that, spinning and striking my chest in return. I feel the air rush out of me in a breathy exhale, but blearily try to swing at the man's head. He sweeps my feet out from under me, flicks the sword casually out of my hands, and catches it before I'd even landed, winded and cursing myself for suggesting this, on the ground.

"A worthy try, but it appears you are rusty at least, Rowena." He snarks. I stick my tongue at him as I pick myself up.

"Thanks, Captain Obvious." I grumble, but accept the sword and listen as he coaches me. Turns out, I caught on almost as well as with horseback riding, but not nearly as smoothly; I ended up with several bruises and a split lip from an accidental strike to my face Aragorn still looked guilty about. But through all that, I can honestly say I enjoyed it. I liked learning more about how to defend myself and how best to go about returning the offensive. "That was actually more fun than I thought it would be." I muse, laughing through my bruised ribs. "Though the bruises aren't a bonus." I add cheekily. Aragorn and I chuckle.

"All say that, but they learn to dodge blows better this way." I grimace as I roll my shoulders. The one that had been shot still panged if I twisted it wrong.

"Can't imagine anyone not wanting bruises all over themselves." I grumble sarcastically. Aragorn shakes his head in bemusement at me, chuckling.

"You are swift to learn new things, Rowena." He compliments and I return his minute grin. "It will serve you well in the coming days." He says.

"Let's hope so."

=#=#=#=#=

The rest of the day passed without incident other than seeing Legolas looking as hungover as I will ever see him, refusing to move from his position leaning against a pillar. He was also rubbing his temples as he tried to be rid of what I think is a migraine I somehow doubt had anything to do with alcohol.

"Legolas?" I ask, hand on his shoulder worriedly. He opens his eyes and looks at me. "You alright?" He nods.

"Forgive me. The incident with the Palantir has unsettled me, I fear. That it all." I deadpan.

"You look like you're having the worst migraine in history. What's wrong?" He sighs.

"Being that close to even a Palantir's vision of Sauron...it is not something I care to repeat or describe."

"If it makes you feel any better, my hands were burnt a little by that stupid thing. Only superficially, but still." It was a lame attempt, but I had at least tried, and it's the thought that counts, right? He chuckles.

"Sadly, it does not help, but I appreciate the attempt." I smile.

"Well, it is the thought that counts, or so I've heard. Now, it appears we have a dinner awaiting us. Shall we?" He chuckles, allowing me to pull him up.

"We shall. Come." In minutes, we are seated, Legolas with the Fellowship, me with Eomer once more at the head table at my Marshall's insistence.

"This is getting to be a habit." I muse. "Sure this is okay?" Eomer smiles, taking my hand.

"If not, I care little for the protests. Since all of Edoras knows we are courting, can we not be open with each other and our affections?" I nod.

"I see. Good point."

"That, I have seen but little of you since the excitement this morning." I grimace.

"Whoops." I mumble. "My bad. I was getting everything back to normal in Meduseld after the feast last night and then I was sparing with Aragorn."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I decided that, since I cannot rely on my gun forever, it's never too early to learn to defend myself." Eomer nods.

"Sound plan, min leof." It was something of a pet-name he'd taken to calling me, his native tongue intoxicating to listen to. It meant 'my beloved' or 'my dear' in ways the Common Tongue, as English was called here, could never quite replicate.

"Tell that to my bruises." I muse, grin betraying the sour tone I'd tried to maintain.

"I remember being coated in them when I first learned alongside Theodred." Eomer muses, and I catch the fondness beneath the slight grief of his voice. I take his hand, not needing to say anything to comfort him. He would continue this topic or change it as he chose. I need not push him. "My father and uncle appeared to think that we should begin learning at ten winters old. It was a solid plan, and now I see the benefits of it, particularly in battle." I sigh. All this talk to fighting and battle, posed as casually as the weather, was so foreign to me, and yet I was getting used to it. Here, there were different rules and customs. I had to respect and learn to adjust to them.

"Hmm. I guess I'm just behind schedule, then." I muse wryly. "Very behind schedule." We share a chuckle at that and the dinner passes swiftly, filled with many more chuckles and easy jokes. Even after dinner was over, we sat talking and laughing, content in each other's company.

All too soon, Eomer and I stand before the hallway leading to my room, as we had only this morning. It seems so long ago.

So much has happened since then.

"Here we are again." Eomer muses, without a hint of humor, the memory as disturbing to him as it was to me. I nod.

"Seems like a long time since I last stood here." He nods.

"Well, barring any incidents, I plan to retire. I bid you goodnight, my lady." It was a declaration of our courtship and I loved it. I was his and he was mine and that's all that matters here, in this moment. I lean up on instinct and press my lips to his in a chaste, pure kiss of bliss and farewell. We remain kissing for a long moment, but have to break apart at some point, so we do.

"Goodnight, my lord." I reply, leaning my forehead against his tenderly, and then we reluctantly part ways.

A giddy smile graces my face as I change and lay down to sleep, and my dreams are filled with loving jade green eyes and bearded kisses.

=#=#=#=#=

The next morning, I awake with that same grin still in place.

Dear Dia (God), when had I become a soppy rom-com character?! Surprisingly, as I came out to enjoy the peace of the early morning, Aragorn came over to me as if he had been expecting me.

"If you are serious about learning to wield a sword, it would do you good to put as much time as possible to learning and practicing, particularly...now." He says, a shadow flickering over his eyes for a moment. I know what he's not saying aloud and nod. This time, it seems Eomer was lying in wait, as well, and approaches the door with us.

"Mind if I observe, Winnie?" He asks jovially. I smile.

"Of course! Though you may not wish be associated with me when you see how poor I am with a sword." I reply playfully. Eomer laughs.

"I sincerely doubt that anything would make me ashamed to be associated with you." I shrug as Eomer's arm wraps around my waist as easily as mine does around his.

"Then come, if that's okay, Aragorn?" The man nods and away we go.

Turns out, Eomer is something of a secret weapon, calling out tips and tricks that I try and use to my advantage. I last a few minutes longer than I normally do, and end up laughing in the dirt I am currently lying in. Aragorn nobly helps me up and we begin again, and this time Eomer has less to offer, but only because I take his previously given advice and put it to use.

"Truly, I do not know how it is you learn things so quickly, Rowena, but I welcome your advancement as a good sign." Aragorn says as we take a break. I laugh.

"Oh, I am far from any good with a sword still, but thanks. It means a lot that you're willing to do this." I reply genuinely. Aragorn sighs contentedly as he sits beside me.

"You are advancing well all the same. Most I have instructed would still struggle with the basic holds and stances at this stage, whereas you are already sparring." I crack a smile.

"I watched a lot of plays and things like that. I guess I was trying to imitate that."

"No wonder you keep falling." Aragorn notes, voice betraying the wry humor his face did not. "You cannot base your fighting style on some choreographed, practiced sequence. This is real life, unpracticed and spontaneous." I nod.

"Right."

"That being said, you are remarkably good at improvisation, Rowena."

=#=#=#=#=

It had been four days since then, morning's sunlight gracing Edoras with warm light to ward off night's chill. Aragorn and I had already had our usual sparring session for an hour or two. I had noted as soon as I'd walked out with the Ranger that Eomer, normally a constant presence of reassurance and guidance, was absent today for some reason, but couldn't dwell on it just yet.

Now that I could, I remember he'd said something about discussing tactics and strategies for the upcoming battle last night, so that's probably where he is. Ah, well.

Aragorn and I are currently enjoying a bowl of well-earned porridge before joining the day's activities, as usual.

And that was how I saw it, as I finished my porridge, chatting with my friend. Then, in the middle of a reply to a question about the Rangers Aragorn led (he'd been a bit more open lately with details on his past), the man froze, tensing and all but dropping his bowl.

"Aragorn?" I ask nervously. Aragorn's eyes widen and he suddenly (without explanation, might I add) takes off running toward Meduseld. "Aragorn!" I call after him, but it only takes a moment to realize, following the man's previous line of vision, what had made the Ranger react like that.

There, on one of the White Mountains (see? I took Seanathair's advice and have been studying maps in my spare time!) was a small pillar of flame that can only mean one thing: The Beacons of Minas Tirith had been lit.

Gondor was calling for aid. I took off running after Aragorn, catching up with him fairly quickly. Together, we heave the doors of Meduseld open and tear inside hastily.

"The Beacons of Minas Tirith are lit!" Aragorn and I scream as one, coming to a halt before the group of men gathered around a table.

"The Beacons are lit!" Aragorn repeats unnecessarily. "Gondor calls for aid!" He pants, the silence growing.

"And Rohan will answer!" Theoden calls. "Muster the Rohirrim!" Eomer nods grimly, as does the captains attending to the Lord of the Mark. They- -we- -know what's at stake.

We're likely going to our deaths. But we'll go anyway.

And I do mean we, myself included. No way in Ifreann I'd be left behind when things were this serious. Eomer exchanges a worried but determined look with Eowyn than me as he bows in deference to the King's orders. I give him a (hopefully) reassuring smile, and slip away to my room to prepare for the journey. It was a long way to Gondor and Minas Tirith.

However, when I finish packing my satchel, once more leaving the dress on the foot of my bed like a promise, I find Eomer outside my door.

"What are you doing?" He asks, frowning at my satchel. I cock a brow. Isn't it obvious?

"I'm packing."

"You are not going." He counters, refusing to let me by him.

"Eomer, don't be ridiculous. I am going, now please let me through."

"You are not going." He repeats, voice lower and more insistent, jaw and eyes set with determination. "If we are to die, I would not have you die, as well." I scowl at him.

"Isn't that my choice?" I ask. Suddenly, I am pressed against the wall and staring, somewhat frightened, into the darkened, shadowed eyes of the man I love, his strong hands on either side of my comparatively small frame. He seems so much bigger now than any other point in our acquaintance.

"I will not allow you to come." He insists, but there is something...desperate in his eyes and voice that makes me want to comfort him. But I know it wouldn't do any good, so I steel myself and take a stronger, possibly more dangerous route.

"Eomer...it is my choice as much as it is anyone else's. I know what's at stake, and I refuse to be shut up in this hall, pacing and twiddling my thumbs while I wait to see if anyone returns!" By the time I finish, my voice has risen slightly and I have a frown of irritation on my face. "This is a culture of fighting women, Eomer!" I say, thanking Iluvatar above for the argument I thought of in that moment. "How is this any different?" Eomer's eyes narrow and he leans in more, making me subconsciously shrink back slightly. He'd never been like this with me before. It was a bit startling but I was determined.

"If anything were to happen to you…" He whispers, forehead resting pleadingly against mine as his hands gently grip my shoulders, as if trying to call on my strength to aid him. "I...I can't…" I sigh.

"And just what do you think I am doing?" I counter, hand tenderly caressing his cheek. "If anything were to happen to you, when I know I can help prevent said 'anything'...I'd never forgive myself." Understanding seems to suddenly snap in our heads and we can only stand there in shock for a moment. Then, either of us know who begins it, but suddenly, we are kissing passionately, more hungrily than ever before and all rational thought leave me for a moment as Eomer once more presses me against the wall, our combined hunger enough to drive us to nearly sensual heights…

But we don't go too far. I pull away, panting heavily. "Eomer...I am coming to Minas Tirith." I insist as my thoughts come back to me. "I know it is not what you want, but...I can't just sit by and let myself cower away in this hall because it's easier than facing my fear." His hands cup my cheeks, smoothing my ruffled hair out of my face so softly, I swallow and nearly go back to kissing him.

"Marry me, then." He whispers genuinely, eyes and voice filled with passion and love. My eyes widen. What?


	30. To Gondor and War

**YAY! I GOT THE PROPOSAL SCENE DONE! IT CAME OUT OF NOWHERE, BUT I REALLY LIKE IT. EOMER** _ **REALLY**_ **MEANT IT, THOUGH. IT'S NOT JUST A SPUR-OF-THE-MOMENT THING, I PROMISE.**

 **ONTO THE REVIEWS!**

 **Woman of Letters: Welcome, welcome! ;) Yes, it** _ **is**_ **an interesting way to go, but I felt it was realistic. Eomer knows he wants to marry and** _ **love**_ **his woman and that there's a high chance he'll die when they arrive to war at Minas Tirith, so why wait? I didn't remember that Bible fact, but yeah. I suppose a lot of ancient cultures were like that. Makes sense, to me anyway. Glad you agree!**

 **Jo: OMG, he** _ **did**_ **do that! ;) Glad you're loving the way the story is progressing!**

 **Me and Not You 1001: 0.0 ...I think I broke you. My apologies. I take it you liked the ending, then? ;) XD**

 **JJAndrews: Thank you! I am honestly a little unsure sometimes, but try my best, anyway. Glad you think I am succeeding. Yeah, I wanted readers to be 'what betrothal?', although it is fairly obvious what proposal I'm talking about. I'll probs change it soon. Thanks for the tip!**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

The silence lingers. I am stunned, overcome with love for the man, but I can't seem to get my mouth to work right and tell him I readily accept the proposal.

"If we are to face death, I would rather face it as husband and wife then merely courtiers, Rowena. Please believe my intentions are true and long have I wanted to ask for your hand." I lick my lips and get my tongue ( _finally_!) to work.

"Of _course_ I'll marry you, Eomer. I may not have expected the proposal so soon, but...I accept." I say giddily, working my fingers tenderly into my love's hair.

"I could wait no longer, and the impending battle increased my desire to wed you a thousandfold, min leof." Our foreheads meet again in a tender display of affection and love more powerful than a kiss would have been. This moment somehow felt _too_ intimate and personal for a kiss. Eomer than reluctantly pulls away, taking my hand and leading me toward a room I know must be his quarters. He bids me wait just outside the door and is back in a moment, taking my left hand. "This was my mother's ring, and until I grew to love you, I had not thought I would need it for a long time." It is a beautiful golden ring, with nearly celtic-style designs so similar to the decorative carvings in the pillars of Meduseld's main hall, forming a spectacularly woven knot around a flawless emerald, several smaller ones set in the lines swirling around the larger one. It takes my breath away for a moment.

"Eomer...this is _gorgeous_!" I whisper reverently, my other hand stroking it dazedly, as if I were dreaming. For all I knew, I _was_ dreaming.

"As is the woman who wears it." He replies in the same tone.

"I am honored to wear it, my love." I tell him in a moment of raw, open emotion. We then kiss for who knows how long, lost in each other for a moment.

Then, a bell's loud ringing sends us crashing with a jolt back to reality. It's calling the Rohirrim to action, meaning that we had to get going, sadly. Our hands never left each other's as we rejoin the others. No one seems to notice our flushed faces, elated grins, or my ring. If anyone does, they're too busy to really take it in just now. Eomer steers us toward and falls in just behind Theoden, who glances at us knowingly. Eomer nods and so does the King and it appears that's all that's needed on the subject of our engagement. Theoden seems to have more he wants to say, but knows to hold it in for now.

"Ensure we leave as soon as possible, assembling at Dunharrow early on the morrow. " Theoden orders shortly instead. "We have two days to draw together our forces." Eomer nods curtly, eyes set on the task at hand, but still clasping my hand, as he moves toward his horse. Theoden grabs his nephew's free arm. "On the third, we ride for Gondor, and war." He says with an utterly serious, grave look in his eyes. Eomer nods again as we descend the stairs. I have to leave to get Gremund ready, but then find Halwyn leading the horse toward me, a small, jealous smile on her face.

"I knew, somehow, that you would refuse to be left behind, Lady Rowena." She says. I then find an idea occurring to me, a wild, crazy idea that won't be widely popular.

However, it's about time I use my position as commander of the shieldmaidens for more than bragging rights.

"Halwyn...do you want to ride to Gondor?" I ask, leaning toward her conspiratorially. She leans toward me in return eagerly. "Shh!" I hiss when she starts to reply loudly that she does, in fact, want to ride very much. "Listen, I need a favor; ride out and summon volunteers from the shieldmaidens. We need as many swords and spears as we can get. Those with children two years and younger aren't allowed, however they plead. I will not be responsible for more orphans than I can help." I tell her. She looks ready to splutter in protest for a moment, but then seems to calm with the knowledge that it is a solid plan, and nods primly.

"Yes, milady." She says shortly and leaves as I mount. Eomer looks at me in shocked approval. Clearly, he hadn't quite expected me to have plans of my own for the war.

At least, not _yet_.

"We will need as many spears and swords as we can muster." He says, nodding.

"Diabhal right you do." I reply, smirking. "And I've managed to secure probably at least a thousand, tops, more Riders than we would have otherwise had." Eomer then sighs.

"At the cost of an unknown number of wives and mothers." He mumbles. I take his hand.

"Eomer, this is the right thing to do. The shieldmaidens know the risks. That's why I asked strictly for volunteers, and excluded those with young children. I'm trying to spare as many as I can, but know many more will come." He nods.

"You are truly a worthy commander, min leof. Come. We shall depart." He says, and leads the way into the midst of the crowd of horses and men and weapons, whistling to get his men's attention. As we ride, I look up at Meduseld one last time, and find Merry kneeling before the King, sword on his outstretched hands and feel a swell of pride.

Good for Merry! The pair had talked well into the night sometimes about all things under the sun, and Merry had eagerly discussed the smoking of tobacco leaves in their land- -the Shire he had called it- -and much more. It was fitting that Merry offer his service and sword. I watch as Theoden gently helps Merry rise, smiling and speaking to the Hobbit in proud, dignified, but gentle tones before releasing the Halfling and descending the stairs to mount his beautiful white horse. "Now is the hour, Riders of Rohan!" Eomer calls. "Oaths you have taken, now, fulfill them all, to Lord and Land!" He cheers vehemently and I nearly kiss him right then and there at the sheer emotion and passion in his voice. My fiance was an amazing leader and an even better man. I am honored and humbled that he chose _me_ of all the women he could have picked to be his bride. He then wheels his horse, Firefoot, toward the gates, clicking his tongue and kicking his mount's sides as gently as his stirred emotions allowed.

And we rode out into the fields, knowing many would, most likely, never return.

But we wouldn't turn around for the world.

=#=#=#=#=

We galloped along the North-South Road for many hours, the formation staying tight and fast, and every time I looked back, I was struck with a sense of awe and wonder at the spectacle. Even with only about a quarter of the Riders expected, I could honestly say that our present group should strike fear into the hearts of any army we see at Minas Tirith.

So just imagine a force quadruple this size! Now _that_ would send the cowardly Orcs running before we'd even had a chance to show them what we were made of!

Or so I hoped.

As the sun westered and sank behind us in the White Mountains, we started, ever so slowly, to begin diverting from the Road and galloping toward the Mountains, toward what could only be described as Helm's Deep, but nearly overrun with grass. It was still far in the distance, but every gallop brought us closer and before the moon had risen, we'd ridden half the distance and slowed to make camp. As the night deepened, I could see a small river or large stream up ahead and it appeared that that is where we'd be camping tonight.

Before midnight, we'd come to the banks and wearily dismounted. We'd made such good progress, the men were cheering and clapping each other's backs as they tied off their horses' reins, though their eyes were weary and slightly haggard. I can't help joining in, albeit with the shieldmaidens of Edoras that had galloped up to the column of Riders not three hours after the main troop had left the gated city. Halwyn was beaming as she clapped my back heartily. I wince (she'd hit one of that morning's bruises) but then return her smile.

"I've sent you message with a few trusted shieldmaidens. They'll deliver the muster as you told it to me." She says when I give her a confused look. "We'll make war on the Orcs in three days, if we keep up this pace." She then cheers. I frown.

"Well...we have to be able to fight when we get there. We may not be able to keep up the ragged pace we had today the entire time, Halwyn." I point out. She laughs.

"I think you may be underestimating our Riders, milady, but you may also have a point." She concedes before politely taking her leave and seeking out a Rider I didn't recognize, beaming as the man pulled her to him and kissed her squarely on the mouth. I blush (thinking of how much I want Eomer to do that to me), and turn away.

It's as if the Valar heard me and positioned my fiance directly in my path. Either that, or it was coincidence. Either way, he was hoisting me by my hips and swinging me around, leaving me to let out a small shriek of laughter, balancing myself with my hands on his shoulders. Then, his lips are against mine and I melt into the kiss, returning it eagerly.

"What would you say to wedding at Dunharrow?" He asks we come apart for air. "I fear I cannot contain the urge any longer than that." I know what the 'urge' is and find myself nodding in agreement to the date and acknowledgement that I, too, had those 'urges'. Everytime I look up and see that handsome, regal, proud face, I want to show him just how much he means to me and how proud I am to wear his ring and be his fiancee.

"I would be honored." I reply. He hugs me to him tightly and I blush but hug him back.

"Oh, how long tomorrow will seem." He murmurs, stroking my hair with a passionate, loving look in his eyes. I smile.

"How do you think _I'll_ feel?" I point out cheekily, poking his chest. Then comes the thought of the actual wedding ceremony and I nearly facepalm. I don't have a _single_ white _anything_ to wear in my satchel. Apparently, I let the emotions show on my face, because Eomer gently takes my chin and bids me look at him.

"What troubles you, min leof?" He asks in a downright sultry tone. I smirk.

"It's just...I don't have anything white to wear." I mumble awkwardly. Eomer frowns. "It's a tradition at weddings in my world. I think it's supposed to symbolize the bride's purity or something." I add. Eomer's eyes then clear of confusion.

"I see. Perhaps Halwyn has a garment you may burrow." He suggests, and I feel love swell for him at the easy acceptance of my land's rituals. I nod. Halwyn and I appeared to be close enough in form and height, after all.

"That's a great idea. If there's nothing white, that's alright. I'm just used to weddings in my land. That's all." I reply, snuggling up to him and sighing contentedly. "You know, no one has commented on the ring yet." I muse absently, looking at it as I had many times during the day's ride. Eomer chuckles, the sound deep and booming with my ear against his chest.

"Hardly surprising. We left but moments, it seems, after I gladly slipped it on your hand." He points out. I laugh.

"Good point." I concede. "Now, let's not keep everybody waiting, or they'll doubt our chastity." I quip, taking my man's arm and leading him toward the head of the camp area, where I knew Theoden was expecting us. Sure enough, he smiles, eyeing my ring with fondness and reminiscence before a fire.

"May Bema bless you both." Is all he says. "It is fitting that Eomer bestow that ring to you, Rowena. Let it signify the blending of our two worlds." I nod in humble thanks for the compliments.

"Let's hope so, sire." I reply a tad timidly. "I'm just glad it fits, honestly." I add, unable to help a joke. All three of us laugh easily for a moment.

"Indeed. Some say the ring is magic, destined to fit any worthy woman to whom it is given." I cannot tell if it is an honest explanation or a jest or merely another compliment, but smile all the same.

"Thank you, milord." I reply, dipping my head in respect. Theoden clicks his tongue.

"Let us be familiar with each other, yes? 'Rowena' and 'Theoden' shall be our titles to each other, for we are to be family by marriage soon, if I am not mistaken." He says with a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

"So, Eomer told you of our plans?" I ask casually.

"Yes, he did, before he went in search of you, Rowena." I nod.

"I am quite in agreement with Eomer, Theoden." The name almost feels weird on my tongue, but I find it not an unpleasant sensation. "I doubt we could...restrain ourselves much longer than tomorrow night." I add. Theoden chuckles.

"I found the week Elfhild asked me to wait before we were wed the longest period of my life. May you find solace and peace with each other." He says and stands. "Now, I am afraid I must ask your leave, the pair of you. I am not as young as I used to be and must now retire for the night." I follow Eomer's lead and stand, bowing politely to the King as he returns it and strides swiftly from sight. Quite suddenly, I yawn, and put a hand to my mouth to stifle the noise. Eomer merely chuckles.

"It seems we are not immune to weariness, though we are still in our youth, Winnie. Come, let us retire." I cock a brow teasingly.

"'Us', milord?" I ask innocently, batting my eyelashes. "I thought it wasn't proper." Eomer laughs.

"I meant that I am weary, as well. And it is no sin for a man and woman to share a bed when both are fully clothed." He points out. My cheeks flare a little, but I nod.

"Oh. It _is_ sometimes fairly cold at night." I muse cheekily and Eomer grins.

"Indeed. And I wouldn't want my bride-to-be to perish of frostbite on the eve of our wedding, now would I?" And with that, we laugh and unroll our two bedrolls side by side, using the open side to haphazardly join the two rolls together and provide enough of a covering for both of us.

And soon, with Eomer's arm over my hips and me snuggled up to his strong, broad chest, I fell into a blissful sleep, dreaming of uttering the wedding vows of my celtic heritage and hearing Eomer's rich, warm baritones return them to me.

It was nearly more than I could bear. Tomorrow would be the _longest_ day of my life.


	31. Mustering at Dunharrow

**YYYEESSS! THE WEDDING CHAPTER! I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS CHAPTER AND MAKE NO APOLOGIES FOR IT. ALSO, I SAW A PIN ON PINTEREST FEATURING CELTIC WEDDING VOWS AND I FELL IN LOVE, SO I AM USING THEM. HOPE YOU LIKE!**

 **OKAY, I HAVEN'T GOTTEN ANY FEEDBACK ON THIS, BUT...I WAS SERIOUS WHEN I ASKED IF YOU ALL WANT TO SEE ROWENA IN SCENES SHE ISN'T IN, BUT THAT YOU ALL ARE INTERESTED IN SEEING HER IN. TAKE, FOR EXAMPLE, ROWENA IN THE COUNSEL OF ELROND, OR MAYBE EVEN THE BATTLE OF AMON HEN. WOULD YOU ALL LIKE TO SEE THAT AS A SEPARATE STORY?** _ **PLEASE**_ **TELL ME!**

 **NOW, ONTO THE REVIEWS:**

 **Me and Not You 1001: Sorry for breaking you! ;) Glad you like my story, and thanks for the compliments. It means a lot when people tell you they think you're good at something. Glad you liked the direction I took. The proposal just kinda...happened. I was then like 'wow, yeah. This works! Awesome!' and went with it. Hope you like the wedding!**

 **Jo: Why yes, Eomer** _ **is**_ **quite dreamy, isn't he? ;) I'd describe him more as 'romantic', but 'sap' works, too! XD Glad you loved it, as well.**

 **Emperor DeLacus: Yeah, Aragorn knows Rowena does need to learn those skills at some point, and he is an older brother figure to her, so of course he'd want to protect her. And of** _ **course**_ **Rowena accepts the proposal! She loves him as much as he loves her, so why wait? Get ready for the wedding scene, then, my friend! XD**

 **SORRY FOR THE LONG AUTHOR'S NOTE, GUYS. NOW, UNTO THE STORY!**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

Apparently, I was now an early bird.

In my world, I hadn't been an early bird or a night owl; I was some form of permanently exhausted pidgeon. Nevertheless, I awoke a few hours before dawn, with the first hints of light showing their rosy cheeks bashfully to the world. I then fully register where I am and- -more importantly- -who is beside me. Flushing, I snuggle my back once more to Eomer's chest, where his arm tightens on my waist subconsciously, possessive even when asleep. I smile and turn over carefully so I could fully appreciate my fiance and the scene in general, quietly and in peace. In fact, I think it was all a little _too_ peaceful because suddenly, I can't keep my eyes open any longer.

 _I was sitting with my Mom in the folding chairs set up on the lawn of the venue, overlooking a beautiful Scottish landscape, I we wait for the bride to arrive. My mother's kid brother was getting married and Mum was suspiciously dry-eyed._

" _Mum?" I ask in a whisper, touching her forearm. "You okay?" She nods, patting my forearm in return. There's an unreadable emotion in her eyes as she turns to me._

" _I'm just still getting over the shock, honestly." She replies, cracking a wry smirk. I smack her arm playfully, but before I can reply, the band starts playing 'Here Comes the Bride' and we all stand. Once we're seated again, she eyes me. "Now,_ _ **your**_ _wedding will have me in absolute tears, Rowena." I roll my eyes._

" _Oh, Mum." I tease, smiling. She nudges my shoulder._

" _I mean it. You're my_ _ **child**_ _, Rowena. Of_ _ **course**_ _I'll cry. Tears of joy that you could find somebody who loves you as much as I do." I then sit in stunned silence. Was_ _ **that**_ _why people cry at weddings?_

"Min Leof. Min leof, it is time to awake." Comes Eomer's throaty, half-asleep words in my ear, sounding incredibly sexy and alluring. I groan, but sit up. I then notice that there are tear tracks down my cheeks and I use rubbing my eyes to get rid of the evidence.

Mum...wouldn't get to see my wedding. She'd never even meet Eomer, except when she reads Lord of the Rings.

But...would I be in the books and movies now? Would Mum be reading these very thoughts or simply watching my pensive expression, tearing up with emotion at the thought that I had a new life here?

That thought comforts me and I manage a smile. Maybe, just _maybe_ , Mum would know that I had not stayed dead in that lake. That I had a new life, one that, no matter what, I would love and live, basking in the joy I'd found here.

As I process this, before I could react, Eomer practically pounced on me in the meager sunlight (I'd only slept a few hours, it seems) to kiss me soundly awake, all but straddling me in his passionate state. Somehow, I get us to a seated position before anything... _unseemly_ happened.

"That's _one_ way to wake a lady." I muse wryly, but was by no means complaining. My hands had wound themselves in my fiance's hair, as usual.

"When I saw how radiant you looked in the morning's light, laying in my arms, smiling like that...I couldn't contain myself." He retorts none too innocently. I shrug.

"Well, at least you woke me first, _then_ pounced." We laugh and join hands as we make our way to our horses, munching on (of _course_!) apples as we walk. Everyone gives us strange looks as we pass by, chewing and laughing, but we pay them no heed. After all, once we start riding, there's not gonna be much time for laughing with each other and enjoying holding each other's hand. All too soon, however, we have to let the other go and mount up as the horn to ride was sounded.

=#=#=#=#=

The morning has just ended, the sun at it's zenith, when we arrive at the mountain the muster was called to.

Dunharrow. It seems as close to a central location in Rohan as any, and I can't help being a little awestruck by the sight the closer we get. It has a large plain meant for large groups to camp on at the base, with a small, winding path leading a portion of the way up the mountain to a ledge that looks almost riven into it. Along this pathway, I could just barely see statues lining it at the corners. All in all, it had a wild beauty that succeeded in distracting me from my upcoming wedding for a moment.

We came into the base to find a camp already being set up. We'd stay here for today and tomorrow and then...to Gondor and whatever awaits us there.

Death and a gory form of glory, according to those riding around me in the main group before I continue on with Eomer and Theoden. We ride up the path to the ledge and I get a closer look at the statues They look like little men, like Dwarves but far wilder and unkempt. I decided I rather hope that these people didn't actually exist. They didn't look too friendly.

We then come to a tent already set up for the Lord of the Mark, with a few more for his entourage. Eomer's was at Theoden's right side, as if they were the men themselves. Both tents looked homely and comfortable, and I wondered what it looked like inside them.

I found out in minutes, as soon as Gremund was tied to a branch. Eomer came and gently led me to his tent, and inside was a throw rug embroidered with the flag of the Mark, with a simple bed in one corner. I eye it with red cheeks, thinking of things I shouldn't be just yet. I settle for plopping down on the carpet with my back to the taunting bed. Eomer just chuckles, apparently picking up on why I'd chosen this perch as he settles at an angle opposite me where he can't see the bed, either. There's a small desk-like table with two chairs to serve as our table, but we didn't use it, taking the bread, salted beef, and cheese left out for us and eating lounged on the carpet. Neither of us says anything for a good long moment.

"What are Rohir weddings like?" I ask. Eomer smiles, eyeing me as if envisioning what was to take place with me as his bride.

"Ordinarily, the bride would ride to the appointed place, sidesaddle, in a dress of linen and lace, any color the maid chose. There'd be flowers braided into her hair, again in the maid's selected style. She'd be helped off the horse by the man she is to marry, who carries her in his arms to an altar or archway he made himself, decorating it with anything he saw fit. A minister or official would be waiting there to officiate the wedding. Once the couple reaches the overseer, the bride presents her father's sword and the bridegroom his father's sword. The woman and man place the wedding bands on the swords and exchange them to symbolize the transition of responsibility for the maiden's wellbeing. Then, the vows are exchanged and the couple is pronounced married." I nod, beaming. It sounded _perfect_. So like Rohan, so like... _us_.

"What are the vows?" I ask, genuinely interested. Eomer merely smiles.

"I envisioned us using your land's vows, min leof. As Uncle said, we are merging two worlds, not simply two families." I beam like the sun at Eomer and it was my turn to pounce on my fiance, kissing him until we couldn't breath.

"Is brea liom tu." I whisper reverently, leaning my forehead against his. "I love you." I then translate. Eomer laughs softly, the sound rumbling most pleasingly in his chest as we lay tangled in each other on the carpet.

"Good, considering what we are planning, even now." He replies wittily. I then remember why I had gotten so distracted and stand up.

"Right, then. Vows and stuff. Gotta right them out." I mumble to myself and move to the desk-table thing. Thankfully, a desk it was, and I found writing tools and parchment in a small drawer.

In less than a minute, I had them written down. I then handed them to Eomer, who read them with a steadily growing smile to match my own as I leaned against the desk. I knew then by heart, as all celtic women did. Eomer's grin then turns positively wolfish and next thing I knew, we were on the carpet again, limbs tangled and lips sealed in bliss and love.

"How is it I have found such an angel among us mortals?" Eomer breaths. I blush and tenderly caress his cheeks.

"I am no angel, mo gra- -my love." I whisper, voice raspy with our kisses and my emotions. "I am a mortal, same as you are."

"And yet, I see no imperfections in you. So an angel you must be." He counters, toying with a strand of my hair as we sit up, me cuddling against his chest as he put a hand to the ground behind him to steady us.

"Mo gra, if you think me an angel, then l'll do my best to remain that way in your eyes forever." I reply seriously. I then stand. "Now, come on. We still have planning to do." I say, taking his hand with a grin and grunting as I pull him up. I then pick up the platter that had held our food (and was now empty), placing it back on the table and we exit the tent to finalize a few things, such as where the wedding could even be. There was not much open space left now that the camp was all but set up and the tents were pitched.

It was then that we decided perhaps the ground level would be best. We walked down and examined the terrain, deciding on a copse of trees that looked resplendent and as good as any carefully tended venue in Scotland. All the while, if I listened intently, I could hear Eomer's mumbling the vows as many times as he could. I smiled and let myself enjoy the vows of my land in his voice. By now, the sun is over three quarters of the way to the west, and we have to start getting ready.

Which meant I had to see if I could find something white. Halwyn met us at the tent, smiling broadly.

"Is there something you're not telling me?" She says, holding up the white tunic embroidered with Rohirric-style horses around the seams. I smile, cheeks heating slightly.

"Now, why would you say that?" I tease, dramatically tapping my chin in thought. She smacks my arm playfully.

"There is! You're blui- -" Realization dawns in her eyes halfway through whatever she was saying. "are you and Eomer...are you getting married?!" She demands in the way all women do in this situation, all smiles and laughs. I nod. She honest-to-goodness squeals, clapping her hands to her mouth.

"We weren't going to announce it to the whole of Rohan, Halwyn! Dia, woman, quiet down!" I hiss playfully and she obliges, opting to snort into her hand instead in relatively silent laughter.

"Well then, we must get you ready!" She says and eagerly yanks my tunic off my head, then freezes. "What are these bruises from?" She asks, fingers hovering over the blotches of painfully discoloured skin. I shrug, gathering the tunic to put on.

"Training with Aragorn. I've been learning to fight with a sword, in case I run out of bullets sooner than the battle finishes." I explain nonchalantly. The tunic fits as if it had been tailored to me. Halwyn nods.

"Sound logic, Rowena." Is all she says as she pulls the tent-flap aside for (of all people) Eowyn to come striding in.

"My brother asked me to call on you." She says with a smile that said she knows exactly what we're doing. I smile gratefully and nod.

"I'll have to thank him later." I muse wryly.

"Oh, I don't think that will be a problem." Eowyn retorts with a seemingly innocent glance around the tent that lingers a second too long on the bed.

"Eowyn!" I bark in mock indignance, then find myself seated and Halwyn is suddenly running her fingers through my hair in an attempt to calm it's waves. Eowyn then absently tosses a comb to the other woman and Halwyn gathers my hair together before starting to comb it.

"I can comb my own hair!" I mumble, fidgeting with my fingers.

"Nonsense!" Halwyn snorts, smacking my shoulder in mock indignance. "You are a bride. Just tell me what you want to have done with this mess." She says. I chuckle faintly, then sigh and look at the floor bashfully.

"Well, I really liked Eowyn's hair at...at Theodred's funeral." I say, kicking absently at the corner of the rug. If either woman is shocked or affected by my choice of hair style, they don't mention it and Eowyn takes over. She places the band she'd had around her head that day on my head and away my nearly sister-in-law went, carefully tucking wildflowers in my hair as she works.

=#=#=#=#=

In minutes, I was riding down (sidesaddle, after a quick explanation by Eowyn) to the appointed place. I can't keep a smile from my face, even though many we pass give me odd, yet knowing looks. Then, in the distance, I see Eomer and encourage Gremund to go faster, which makes it a bit harder to stay on, but I can't help it. True to tradition, Eomer carries me, bridal style, to the 'altar' (rocks Eomer obviously piled together while I was getting prepared, God bless that man), where we draw our weapons. Eomer's is the one he has carried since I met him, so I think that's his father's. I then present my gun (closest thing I had to a weapon from my father; naturally, I didn't have a _single_ bullet in it) and we prepare to exchange the vows.

"You cannot possess me, for I own myself. But, while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give. You cannot command me, for I am a free person. But I shall serve you in those ways you require, and the honeycomb will taste sweeter from my hand." I tell him honestly and with a smile wide enough to split my face in two.  
"I pledge to you that yours is the name I cry aloud in the night, and the eyes into which I smile in the morning. I pledge to you the first bite of my meat, and the first drink from my cup. I pledge to you my living and dying, equally in your care." Eomer replies and the way he says it makes shivers of pleasure and desire shoot up and down my spine teasingly. I can barely remember that there's one last vow to make, one we make together: "This is my wedding vow to you. This is a marriage of equals." We then grab the bands and slip them on each other's fingers, carefully putting the weapons down.

And so it was. No one could deny that. Our joined hands are tied loosely together by Theoden, who pronounces us married and informs Eomer that he may kiss his bride (I'd added that bit in as a suggestion). Our kiss was one of raw emotion and passion and we nearly forget where we are in the heat of the moment. From there, it was only a matter of riding back up to the tents before we could give in to that heat, clothes forgotten on the tent floor.


	32. Onward Ho!

**SKIPPING THE REST OF THE WEDDING NIGHT, WE'RE ON TO THE MORNING AFTER! HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY THIS CHAPTER AND I SWEAR WE'LL GET TO PELLENOR FIELDS ASAP, OKAY? THERE'S JUST TOO MUCH PLOT TO COVER BEFORE WE GET THERE TO JUST SKIP OVER IT. SORRY!**

 **HOLY FRICK! THIS THING HAS JUST UNDER 75 REVIEWS?!** _ **HOW**_ **?! Y'ALL ROCK! \\( 0 )/ THANK YOU SO MUCH!**

 **NOW, TO THE REVIEWS!**

 **Jo: That was the idea. I didn't want to just not talk about how being in a new world affected Rowena. Her family are missing out on meeting the love of her life, her wedding, everything that's happened to her since she appeared in M-E. Sad, but I know better than to just not talk about it.**

 **Me and Not You 1001: You are completely fine, my friend! Glad you enjoyed the chapter!**

 **Emperor DeLacus: *dances around with you* IKR! I loved writing that scene and hope I did it justice. Like I said to Jo, I didn't want to gloss over something that would affect Rowena that much. She misses her family, and really wishes they could be there. However, I didn't make it completely hopeless: that theory about her family reading/watching LotR and seeing Rowena's new life is true. I just couldn't let them be completely estranged from each other forever!**

 **NOW, ONTO THE STORY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

When I slowly awoke, it was with a sense of belonging, of loving and being loved.

And a soreness only newlyweds truly know. I withhold a groan, however. Last night had been- -let's just say it was _well_ worth the stiffness I'd have for a few days. I find myself curled against Eomer's chest, his arms securely wrapped around me, and reveled in feeling the fabled afterglow. The rings on my finger catch the dying candlelight and my eyes flick to them, then to my husband's peaceful sleeping face.

My _husband_. The word felt a little odd, even in my head, but it sends a thrill of pleasure down my spine and I cuddle up to him as the chill of morning suddenly makes itself known. I then realize that it's nearly dawn and Aragorn would be waiting for me, most likely. If the rumors hadn't reached him. If they had, I'm probably still in for a round of new bruises to make movement even harder.

With a soft sigh, I slowly withdraw from Eomer's embrace, placing a feather-light kiss on his fringe before dressing in my clothes from yesterday and my coat and exiting the tent, peeking back one last time before I go. I yawn and stretch as I walk unhurriedly through the camp, scanning idly for the Ranger. Then, I got a feeling of being followed and whirl to find that he had fallen in step with me almost without my knowledge. Speak of the devil and he shall appear… "I was not expecting you so soon this morning." He notes with an entirely false innocent, blank expression.

I grin. "You heard? About the wedding?" He cocks a brow incredulously.

"I feel assured all of Dunharrow heard. Everything." He says, cracking a wry smile. I flush and turn away.

"Well, good. We weren't planning on hiding it."

"Then let's get our sparring completed before you and Eomer are swarmed with well-wishers." He retorts, drawing out our two wooden swords.

"Oh, Dia, yes please!" I retort with a wide grin and squared off, only slightly wincing when I moved my legs into position.

The only thing that need be said of that sparring match is that it was nothing short of a disaster. I was too sore in the, uh, legs to move quickly and my head was still in something of a newlywed daze, so I could hardly remember what Aragorn had been drilling into my head for nearly a week now.

"What's this?" Came Eomer's jovial voice when I landed on my already sore and now bruised rear end yet again. "My lady is losing to the ancient Ranger of the North?" He teases, easily scooping me up and swinging me around before kissing me soundly. Aragorn's scoff of good-natured irritation at the untimely interruption brought us back to reality.

"Well, I blame my lord for my losses." I retort, playfully poking his chest. "After last night, it seems I can't think or move like I did yesterday!" He laughs at my bluntness, but steals another kiss.

"Then I shall not disturb your practice any longer, beloved wife. I shall take my leave." I give him a goodbye kiss, inwardly squealing for joy at being called 'beloved wife'- - _wife_!- -and he reluctantly leaves to go get breakfast or something. I then look around and find that we have a small audience; mainly shieldmaidens that were bustling around getting breakfast, giggling and pretending not to have seen our moment. I flush and turn back to Aragorn. He merely shrugs.

"I would never dream of separating you two. Please, go enjoy your marriage to your Marshall." I bite my lip, cheeks heating further in slight embarrassment.

"Maybe we can spar again later?" I ask timidly. Aragorn nods.

"As you wish." I nearly lose it at the Princess Bride reference, however unintentionally it was made. Somehow, though, I manage to walk away with a relatively straight face. As soon as I am out of earshot, however, I allow myself a few chuckles before reigning it in and entering Eomer's tent to find him in the position he had been in yesterday, except I wasn't there to block his view of the bed until I sat before him. He grins.

"Aragorn let you go?" He asks with a chuckle.

"Yeah. Apparently, newlyweds are excused from sparring practice." I reply, grabbing a few slices of cured meat and cheese, rolling them up together and taking a bite. "Rohan knows how to cure meat." I muse, my eyes fluttering closed in ecstasy. This moment was undeniably perfect as Eomer draws me into his lap and I fold into his arms willingly.

"And how is my lady this morning?" He asks in that sultry tone that fills me with desire for him. I moan a little and sink further into his arms until I am flush against him.

"Ecstatic, my lord." I reply in my best attempt to sound as sultry and alluring as he had. Apparently, it worked, cus we are lost in each other's kiss again. I wanted nothing more than to be in this moment all day and well into the night, for I knew what would come with the next dawn; riding to war and death. We end up laying on the carpet, Eomer straddling me and continuing our kiss.

Unfortunately, there was business to attend to, and Theoden would probably want to talk battle and route plans with his Third Marshall and Heir. "Breakfast." I whisper breathily in between kisses. Eomer grunts his disapproval before snatching my mouth with his again. I smile into his kiss, but reluctantly push him back a bit. "Eomer...your uncle needs to talk plans with you and we need to eat before then." I point out. He sighs, head almost touching my chest as it dips in resignation.

"You're right, min leof." He sighs, leaning our foreheads together. "Forgive me." He adds. I smile, pecking his cheek.

"Nothing to forgive, mo gra. Now, let's eat."

=#=#=#=#=

If the Elves' arrival at Helm's Deep was unexpected, then what happened near three in the afternoon seemed comparatively staggering. Aragorn and I were in the middle of more sparring when all of a sudden, he was hailed by some unknown voice. He is distracted and I take the opportunity to disarm him, which alarms me cus he's _Aragorn_ and I've almost _never_ disarmed him before.

"Aragorn?" I ask, but he's already running forward to embrace the leader of about thirty tall, strong, proud men wearing a uniform grey cloak fastened with a star-shaped brooch. At their sides were identical swords and in their hands are simple, powerful spears.

"Halbarad!" Aragorn cries, clapping his (apparently) friend's shoulder warmly. "Of all joys this is least expected!" I then come over with a grin of my own.

"Aragorn, mind introducing us?" I ask, and the Ranger nods, clearing his throat.

"Cousin Halbarad, may I present the wife of the Third Marshall, Rowena the Outlandish." I mock-scoff at the title, smacking his arm playfully.

"Oi!" I bark, but then sigh and turn to shake Halbarad's offered hand. "Lovely to meet you." I tell him. He smiles.

"Pleasure is all mine. Now, not to seem rude, milady, but I have urgent business with my Captain." He says. I nod, having been told of Aragorn's position by the Ranger himself days ago.

"By all means, good sir." I say, motioning them away.

=#=#=#=#=

Eomer, Legolas, Gimli, Aragorn, and many others are gone in conference for a long time with the newcomers, leaving me bored without anything to do. I resort to beginning to compile a list of songs from my world that I remember all the way through. Suddenly, before I even fully realize it, night has begun to fall and then, all of a sudden, I am in the tent again and Eomer and I are eating dinner.

"So, what did Theoden want?" I ask to get conversation going. Eomer's tired grunt is all I hear until his mouth is empty.

"Discussing the quickest route to Minas Tirith. Your friend Aragorn was invaluable there. I believe he has saved us as much as a day, if Bema blesses our journey." I nod.

"Let's hope he _does_ bless us. We'll need all the luck we can get." Eomer then frowns. "What is it?" I ask, setting my cup of mead down. He sighs.

"Aragorn seemed unduly nervous...uneasy, almost." I tilt my head, frowning deeper.

"Oh?" Since when was _Aragorn_ nervous and uneasy?

"Aye. The Rangers of the Dunedain took private conference with Aragorn, and he then approached us with his kinsman under a heavy burden, it seems. He was older, as well, more wearied and burdened than at any other point in our acquaintance." I sigh, humming pensively.

"Odd...He was glad Halbarad was here." I muse. "Guess the 'why' was something really serious if it's got _Aragorn_ freaked." Eomer shrugs.

"Either way, min leof, he refused to share what the Rangers told him."

"That's what worries me." I reply. Aragorn tended to mull things over and come up with his own plan without saying a word of his plans to anyone. If he weren't talking it over with someone...whatever news he'd heard may make him do something stupid.

=#=#=#=#=

I was right; he _would_ do something stupid!

"He's gonna do _what_ now?" I ask sharply, sharper than I really meant. However, Eowyn doesn't flinch.

"He believes he must do down the Path of the Dead."

"You mean that path at the back of Dunharrow _no_ one wants to go down?" I ask rhetorically. I'd been foolish enough to wander close to it checking on Gremund, hearing horses nickering and neighing agitatedly. Eomer had hastily pulled me aside, telling me in no uncertain terms that the path was cursed and none survive the journey into its mysterious depths. "Fricking _great_!" I hiss as I facepalm, irritation filling me at Aragorn's decision. What could he hope to gain from travelling down that Bema-forsaken pathway? I take off at a sprint and find him and the Rangers riding steadily toward the Path of the Dead. "Aragorn!" I bark, coming up next to him. "What are you _doing_?" I demand. He sighs.

"I'll have to put our sparring on hold for the time being, my friend." He says.

"Aragorn, please! Why is this _so_ hellfire important?!"

"It will help in the coming battle." Is all he says, but his eyes betray his uncertainty.

" _How_?!" I growl, crossing my arms petulantly. He doesn't reply. I let out a hiss of anger and frustration, spinning on my heel, and in so doing, I notice Legolas and Gimli sharing a horse again, riding along beside Halbarad, just behind Aragorn. "Not you two, as well!" I protest despondently, throwing my hands up furiously, suddenly almost wanting to mount Gremund and see what the fuss was about.

"Sorry, lass." Gimli replies. "Where he goes, we go, but this is no place for a maiden such as you." I growl out unintelligible curses in both gaelic and english at the riders, but stalk away before I ride Gremund after them in a wave of pettiness and spite. I find Eowyn a decent distance away, tears in her eyes and lip trembling.

"Eowyn?" I ask. She shakes herself and sighs.

"It is nothing." She says, turning away. I take her arm and gently spin her back around, drawing her in for a hug.

"Don't say that; I see those tears." I tell her. "If you don't want to talk to me about it, that's fine, but just talk to _someone_ , okay?" She draws me in tightly.

"Why must he go?" She whimpers into my shoulder. I sigh heavily.

"I don't know." I tell her, then frown. Why would she despair this much at seeing Aragorn go? It's clear the Ranger captain is the one she was referring to, but- -oh, crap. Oh, _crap_. Oh, Eowyn… "Eowyn...he- -did you see that necklace he wears?" I ask tentatively, now wanting to hurt her, but needing her to know more about the man she'd clearly developed a crush on.

"I...what about it?" She asks. I sigh.

"It's a woman's necklace. I asked him about it one morning after sparring and he told he it was an Elf maiden named Arwen's. She'd given it to him to remind him of her on his journey. Eowyn, I am so sorry, but...he's in love with another woman." She nods into the crook of my neck.

"I tried to stop him leaving, and confessed my...attraction and he said something similar." She tells me. I squeeze her gently in a comforting gesture.

"He never meant to hurt you. He simply didn't understand what your attentions meant until you spoke them out loud." I reply. "He is a noble man, but a tad oblivious at times. I'm sorry, Eowyn."

"It is no fault of yours." She replies, drawing herself up and away from my embrace. "Thank you." She whispers, cheeks heating slightly in embarrassment.

"Meh." I reply with a shrug. "It was nothing. Hope it helped." The men watching the Rangers disappear then dejectedly slump away. I then spot Hama casting a hopeless, lost and dejected look at the path. "Hama?" I call. "You heard Aragorn; there's something in the Path of the Dead that may help in the coming battle." I tell him, the only thing I can think of at the moment.

"How can _anything_ in that vile place aid us?" I suspect he's asking that rhetorically, but answer anyway.

"I really have no clue, but trust Aragorn knows what he's doing."

"We shall see, milady." He retorts, looking unconvinced. "Now come; Eomer would tan my hide if I let you linger before the Path too long." I laugh and take his proffered arm.

"You are too kind, Hama." I reply easily.

=#=#=#=#=

As soon as dawn broke, we mounted our steeds and rode. And rode and _rode_ and _**rode**_. There seemed no end to riding, even at night. We only stop when the moon rises about halfway up to it's zenith. Then, we collapse wearily and fall into exhausted, dreamless slumber. Like on the eve of our wedding, Eomer and I share bedrolls against the early spring night's chill and our shared warmth is enough. There is no time, privacy, or energy at night for anything more, but I find cuddling is enough for now.

It is now morning on our third day riding, and our pace is slightly slackened, to spare beast and man the energy needed to get through the coming battle. We send out scouts and pray they come back with positive reports. For the most part, they do, until we come closer to a forest and they begin to report large number of Orcs camping on the roads through the forest, with spiked trenches to ensure we couldn't get past them. As we ride through a forest, eating as we go, I can't help but feel like there was a presence, watching us but never revealing itself. There is a lot of forest to ride through and not for a moment does the feeling cease. In fact, if anything, it increases. It bugs me and bugs me, but I can't decide what it is that truly bothers me. Then, as if the situation _needed_ to get creepier/weirder, there comes the sound of drums, but I somehow don't think it's an Orc's drum. It begins after noon and slowly builds and builds until I am certain everyone can hear them.

The sound fills me with a sense of foreboding, and I seem to suddenly understand that something was about to happen, but good or bad I couldn't tell.

I find out that night when I catch Eomer's eyes and see him wheeling Firefoot nearer, the torches held by nearby Riders the only illumination.

"That is no Orc drum, min leof." He assures me. "It is the Woses, Wild Men of the Woods, communicating with each other over distance." I frown.

"I don't suppose you know what the beats mean?" I ask. "They aren't going to attack us, right?" Eomer shrugs.

"I cannot say, min leof. We in Rohan know little of their habits, but they are typically friendly, I think I recall." I nod.

"Alright."

"This true." Comes a voice, gruffer by a mile than Gimli's but just as fierce, says from behind us. I let out an undignified squeak and whirl my head around, Gremund stomping worriedly at my reaction.

"Geez!" I breath, clutching my chest. Then cough and straighten up, shushing Gremund before turning to the newcomer. "Hello." I greet awkwardly. "May I help you?" I add, unsure if it was the 'right' response, but the man then comes into the nearby torchlight, and I nearly unleash another squeak.


	33. Unsought Counsel

**THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER BEFORE THE BATTLE OF PELLENOR FIELDS! I SERIOUSLY CANNOT STRESS HOW MUCH I** _ **LOVE**_ **THAT SCENE ENOUGH, DESPITE [SPOILERS]. THAT WRECKS ME, BUT I STILL LOVE IT! XD**

 **ONTO THE REVIEWS!**

 **Me and Not You 1001: You, too? Oh, good! XD I laughed writing it. I don't care of it wasn't in-character for Aragorn. It was too dang funny to not do. Glad you agree!**

 **Halbarad is the second in command of the Dunedain Rangers under Aragorn, their chieftain. He's also Aragorn's cousin. He's a character only seen in the books, sadly. He's awesome, though, promise! ;)**

 **JJAndrews: Glad you enjoy my story! I seriously smile whenever I read your comments (which can be said to every single reviewer, as well, honestly)! It does a writer a great service when readers can outline things they really like about the author's story. I really like writing this and can't help but grin when I find that people like reading it just as much as I do. Worry not, for I plan on seeing this through to the end! ;)**

 **Jo: Thanks! This is a wonderful story to write, and I am super jazzed to read that you like it, as well.**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

The thing before us was decidedly _not_ human! It was as short as a Hobbit or a Dwarf, but looked far more wild (like the statues at Dunharrow) and he wore a skirt (or maybe a kilt) of grass _only_. Wild Man of the Woods indeed, I decide, struggling not to react outwardly.

"I wish to speak to Lord of Mark. Offer help." The thing- -Wose, hadn't Eomer called this species?- - replies. I nod, swallowing a little and praying it was the right move.

"Okay. We've stopped for the night to camp. The Lord of the Mark should be over here." I reply, leading Gremund and the little Wose over to the tents before dismounting. Few tents were taken with us, for the sake of travelling light, but a King deserved a proper resting place, if anyone did. Now, it would be used for whatever counsel this strange Wose can offer.

Theoden was justifiably startled by the Wose's appearance in his tent.

"He says he has to speak with you, offer help." I explain shortly. Theoden's brow cocks, but he comes over.

"Are you offering to join our fight?" He asks. The man shakes his head.

"No, father of Horse-men." He replies. "We fight not. Hunt only. Kill gorgun in woods, hate Orc-folk. You hate gorgun, too. We help as we can." I think 'gorgun' means 'Orc', but I don't know for sure. "Wild Men have long ears and long eyes; knows all paths. Wild Men live here before Stone-houses; before Tall Men come up out of Water." Don't know what he's talking about, really, but it sounds like he wants to guide us through the woods.

"But our need is for aid in battle." Eomer retorts bluntly. "How will you and your folk help us?" He then asks curiously.

"All due respect." I add when the Wose frowns. He's come selflessly to offer his and his people's services. Least we could do was hear him out and not offend him. The Wose frowns distastefully, but doesn't seem too aggravated, at least, as he continues.

"Bring news." The Wose says. "We look out from hills. We climb big mountain and look down. Stone-city is shut. Fire burns there outside; now inside, too." My eyes widen and i swallow, praying that Seanathair and Pippin were alright. "You wish to come there?" He asks. I nod.

"Yes, please. With all haste." I mumble. The Wose nods.

"Then you must be quick. But gorgun and men out of far-away" he stopped talking for a moment and swept his hand in an easterly direction "sit on horse-road. Very many, more than Horse-men." I exhale loudly and slump a little at those words. We already knew that, and it _still_ sucks. Eomer frowns.

"How do you know that?" Eomer asks. I think he meant it as an honest, genuine question. Unfortunately, the Wose takes it the wrong way and his eyes darken.

"My husband meant no offense." I tell him quickly. "Please, sir, we are eager to learn more about this." His countenance softens and he relaxes a bit, though he still frowns in displeasure.

"Wild Men are wild, but not children. I am a great headman, Ghan-buri-Ghan. I count many things; stars in sky, leaves of trees, men in the dark. You have a score of scores counted ten times and five. They have more. Big fight, but who will win? And many more walk round walls of Stone-houses." I frown. Does that mean Minas Tirith is surrounded and under siege?

 _Crap_.

"Alas!" Theoden groans, "He speaks too shrewdly. And our scouts say they have cast trenches and stakes across the road. We cannot sweep them away in sudden onset." I bite my lip. No, we can't. So...unless these Wose can guide us by another path, we're screwed. We'll never even make it to Minas Tirith. We've failed.

"That where Ghad help Horse-men." Ghan-buri-Ghan replies. Things then click and I realize that Ghan _did_ want to guide us through the forest to Minas Tirith, after all.

"Ghan-buri-Ghan," I say tentatively, lest I assume too much and accidentally ruin the golden opportunity here. "If you and your Wose could guide us through these woods to the Stone-city, we'd be forever in your debt." I say and Ghan suddenly appears the most merry I've seen him, happy he was finally understood.

"That my plan!" He cheers. Eomer's smile is like the sun as he leans forward.

"We will receive your offer." He says, breathy with excitement. There was a hopeful light returned to his eyes I hadn't truly seen since we left Dunharrow. "For though we leave a great host behind us, what matter?" He asks rhetorically. I cock a brow.

"Um...ambush? That's a legitimate concern, hun." I point out. Eomer merely shakes his head.

"Not so, min leof." He replies. "If the White City falls, then we shall have no returning. If it is saved, then the Orc-host itself will be cut off." I frown in thought before nodding.

"Okay. Hadn't thought of it that way." I say and Eomer turns to Ghan.

"If you are faithful, Ghan-buri-Ghan, then we will give you rich reward and you shall have the friendship of the Mark forever." Ghan merely sighs.

"Dead men are no friend to living men, and give them no gift." He says heavily. Basically, he'd said that if we died, we couldn't give him the promised rewards, so why bother offering them? He expected us to die. "But if you live after Darkness, leave Wild Men alone and do not hunt them like beast any more." I start a bit in shock.

"I thought you said Rohir don't know anything about the Wose!" I cry. Eomer grimaces.

"It is not as common now, but in the older days, when other prey were sparse...I am ashamed to say some of the...rougher Rohir found the idea too tempting to ignore." I shiver. Eesh. Ghan then leaned forward again, as if I had not interrupted. "Ghan-buri-Ghan will not lead you to trap. He go with father of Horse-men, and if he leads wrong, father of Horse-Men kill him." I let out a squeak at the nonchalant tone the Wose proposed being killed in.

"Ghan!" I protest. "I don't think there will be any- -"

"So be it." Theoden interjects. "Rowena, please. This Wose speaks true. It is a wise bargain, honorable, as well." I open and close my mouth several times.

"I fail to see how, but okay…" I say under my breath and lean back into my seat.

"How long will it take to pass by the enemy and come back to the road?" Eomer asks, hands folded, business-like, on the table. "We must go at foot-pace, if you guide us; and I do not doubt the way is narrow." Ghan nods.

"Wild Men go quick on feet. Way is wide for four horses in Stonewain Valley yonder," he says with a southward sweep of his hands, "but narrow at beginning and end. Wild Man walk from there to Din between sun and moon." Eomer nods grimly, though I have no idea what all that translates to.

"Then we must allow at least seven hours for the leaders, ten hours if we allow for misfortune and unforeseen delays along the path, and it may take long set the Rohirrim in order when we issue from the hills." I nod, grimacing a little. _That_ long?!

"So...we won't be at Minas Tirith until some time tomorrow, then?" I ask tentatively. Eomer nods.

"Afraid so, Winnie." He then frowns. "What time is it now?" He asks to no one in particular and I frown in thought. That was a good question. I wish I had my watch, but it seems Illuvatar didn't want _too_ much of my world's tech in Middle-Earth. Which is probably best, all things considered.

"Who knows?" Theoden replies with a small shrug. "All is night now."

"Probably early morning now, actually." I point out with a yawn. We'd stopped at about ten o'clock, maybe eleven, and it's been a few hours at least since then, so…

"Winnie speak true." Ghan agrees, nodding in approval at me. I smile and nod back. "It is dark, but not night. When Sun comes, we feel her, even when she is hidden. It is opening of day in sky-fields." I bite my lip. We were _definitely_ not getting to Minas Tirith today, sounds like. Eomer sighs, takes a breath, and squares his shoulders.

"Then we must set out as soon as may be. Even so, we cannot hope to come to Gondor's aid today." I nod, sighing heavily.

"Hope Pip and Seanathair are alright." I mumble before I can stop myself. Suddenly, my eyes burn with unshed tears as the reality of what I may find at Minas Tirith comes crashing down.

They may be dead. They. May. Be. _Dead_.

"The wizard will protect your friend as long as he is able. He is a capable sorcerer and warrior. They won't come to harm." Eomer replies softly, hand squeezing my thigh under the table in comfort. I nod, taking a deep breath and blinking back the tears.

"Silly me." I reply with as much cheer as I can muster. "What was I thinking?"

"You were thinking of your friends and grandfather in a war-ridden area. It is no shameful thing to feel what you are feeling." My loving and lovable husband replies easily. I nod again, swallowing.

"Thanks." I mumble. Theoden stands, bowing to the Wose in respect.

"Many thanks for your assistance, Ghan-buri-Ghan." He says slowly, and then straightens up. Ghan stands, as well.

"If blackness spreads over all land, all people die. Wose know this and offer help." He replies. With that, he politely takes his leave and assures us that the Wose will be there at a moment's notice to provide extra scouts and guidance for the column of Riders. I then notice a platter loaded with waybread, cheese, and boiled eggs, with a large pitcher of water beside them, and start munching absently on waybread. Theoden sighs, sinking heavily back onto his chair.

"I had hoped to arrive much sooner than we will." He mutters under his breath, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. I put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Theoden, we'll get there in time. We're leaving now, we haven't suffered any casualties, and Gondor has Seanathair." I point out. "I think it'll all work out, in the end." Theoden leans back in his chair wearily, his head resting on the cool wood.

"I can only wish I had your optimism, Rowena." He replies despondently, eyes closed and sad smirk on his face. I then abandon all proprietary and whatever else that would stop me and I gently tug my uncle/father-in-law up and then hug him tightly. I am not even the slightest bit ashamed at what I am doing, even when Theoden stiffens for a good minute.

"It's okay." I mumble into his shoulder. "It's gonna be okay. You're an amazing man and an even better king. Screw anyone who says different." Against all odds, Theoden then chuckles. "You haven't and won't lead us astray. I love you."

"This is a comfort least expected, Rowena, but it is also the most welcome. Thank you." He tells me after a moment, kissing my fringe as he finishes speaking. I smile.

"Happy to help!" I reply honestly. Theoden nods.

"I can see that." He says, the barest of smirks curling his lips. I hop a little on the balls of my feet.

"Well, we _are_ family now, right? Of _course_ I'll help out." Eomer then tugs me into his arms.

"And that's why I fell for you, my darling." He whispers. I blush a bit and lean up slightly to kiss him soundly. "Unfortunately, min leof," He breaths, reluctantly drawing away, "we are due to ride out for the White City." I nod, sighing and stepping away.

"Right. Let's get going, then." I reply, clapping my hands together in a sudden business-like air. I then exit the tent, Eomer on my heels, and head toward my and Eomer's campsite, finding Gremund still tied off and saddled, as I'd left him.

Just as I am putting my foot in the stirrup to mount up, the horn to ride is sounded. I then swing into the saddle and begin heading out with Eomer right behind me.

=#=#=#=#=

Needless to say...it was a _very_ tense ride. We could not gallop as we had before, but got stir-crazy going any slower. It was a weird feeling. I kept fingering my glock, expecting Orcs at any and every turn, but none came. And I'm not the only one. Eomer has his spear in hand, leaning forward, straining to catch the slightest sound of an advancing Orc.

But the Wose did their job well, and no Orc or 'man from far-away' appeared.

The full weight of the impending battle- _-war_ , really- -sinks in now more than ever as I look over and see everyone's tense, darkened faces, the shadow of fear and doubt clouding their eyes. I almost want to sing something to help boost morale, but...it doesn't seem likely to help and might only make everyone more worried we'll be heard and attacked.

And they'd probably be right, so I keep my mouth shut. We don't even stop at noon like normal. We just dig what food we have in our saddlebags and satchels (in my case) and munch on the go. It's getting increasingly somber, grave, and tense, until I think it's a miracle we can still ride through the atmosphere, but still no one makes a sound. Finally, about four in the afternoon, we get out of the larger part of the forest and then have to move past large open spaces with no cover, which only increases the tense atmosphere. There are still more forests and more open ground to cover, so we keep moving, silent as a large army of horses riding along the paths can be.

And then, we come to the hills directly before Minas Tirith just as the sun begins to set (I think; Either way, the darkness is getting worse) and I can't help a gasp at the sight.

Not the city, no. No, it was the _massive_ army of orcs before us! They have Minas Tirith well and truly surrounded, filling out the fields between us and the city with not a lot to spare. I felt nauseous and dizzy at the sight, but close my eyes and take deep breaths, which only helps a little as unease and raw terror creep in.

How in _Middle-Earth_ are we going to defeat _that_ many Orcs?!


	34. War on Pellenor Fields

**SO.**

 **HERE WE** _ **FINALLY**_ **ARE, EH? THE BATTLE OF PELENNOR FIELDS. YYYAAAAYYYY! \\(^v^)/ IT'S TAKEN A** _ **LONG**_ **TIME TO GET HERE, BUT I HOPE IT'S WORTH THE WAIT! THIS IS LATE CUS I WAS BUSY A LOT THIS WEEK AND COULDN'T GET AROUND TO POLISHING UP THIS CHAPTER, BUT HERE IT IS AT LAST!**

 **Jo: Thanks for coming back again to tell me you love it! That's sweet of you, really! I certainly try to make something worthy of 'brilliant', my friend. Glad to know you think I succeed.**

 **Me and Not You 1001: Thanks! I was worried people would take these last few chapters as filler, but I knew better than to just skip it all. There was just too much to do before I got there.**

 **UNFORTUNATELY, THERE IS SOME BIG THING COMING UP. IF YOU HAVE SEEN THE MOVIES AND/OR READ THE BOOKS, YOU KNOW WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT. UGH IT KILLS ME. HOWEVER, I HAVE A DIFFERENT PLAN FOR ROWENA AND AS SUCH SHE WILL NOT GET TO WITNESS HER UNCLE-IN-LAW...YOU KNOW. ANYWAY, I DIGRESS. ONTO THE STORY!**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!  
~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

I swallow thickly, nearly throwing up, nerves making my stomach squirm and my heart pound painfully. I then force myself to look up at Minas Tirith and find it a beautiful city- -or could see that it had once been beautiful, before this war started. It was like a many-layered wedding cake, glistening white in the meager sunlight behind us. At the last layer, the smallest, there was a large, roughly hewn pinnacle of rock, jutting out from the last layer and coming down to the ground, proud and authoritative in its jaggedness somehow. The entire city was truly a testament to Men's construction capabilities.

Horns sounding out along the line of Riders, announcing our arrival to the beleaguered city below, startle me out of my musing on Minas Tirith. I spot Theoden blowing his personal horn, so hard it burst apart! I crack a small smirk at the sight of the King's startled face, but in the next instant, the proud, determined face of the Lord of the Mark is back and he sets his jaw.

"Courage, Merry." Whispers a voice directly behind me. "Courage for our friends." I look over my shoulder and start at what I find; Eowyn (going Mulan on her brother and Uncle, wearing armor and a helmet to hide her face) and Merry, sitting as any other Rider on their horses!

Weren't they _not_ supposed to come? Frick! Cursing under my breath, I turn back around as Eomer rides over to me. HIs eyes are clouded with an unreadable expression.

Distantly, I hear orders being barked in harsh, guttural tones as the army of Mordor turns to greet us with pikes at the ready. I grab Eomer's hand for comfort and assurance, and it seems Eomer needs the same from me. I swallow again, trying to still my shaking hands. Before a word can be spoken, Theoden rides over to us.

"Eomer, lead your eored down the left flank. Rowena, begin the charge with Eomer, then lead the shieldmaidens and purge the city of these wretched creatures." It's as good a plan as any (and an idea I'd had running, almost subconsciously, in the back of my mind), and I nod. Theoden continues down the line of his captains, giving orders, and Eomer then takes the opportunity to lean over and kiss me soundly for a moment.

"For luck." He whispers against my temple when he slowly draws away. I nod, hand absently keeping my husband close to me, fingers tangled in his hair. I then exhale shakily and withdraw my hand. "Flank, make ready!" He cries, no trace of worry or fear in his voice. His men do so instantly, and I swallow. This was it. We were going to ride out soon.

"Forth!" Theoden cries, in the most commanding, regal tone I have ever heard from him. I'd heard a hint of it at the victory feast, but this was something else entirely. "Forth, and fear no darkness! Arise! Arise, Riders of Theoden! Spears shall be shaken, shields shall be splintered! A sword day! A red-day, ere the sun rises!" It's such a powerful speech, I nearly kick Gremund's sides and charge forward, order or no order. And Theoden wasn't done yet! Theoden rides along the front line, clanking the flat of his sword against the spears the Riders lowered. It seems to be a tradition of the Rohirrim, so I don't question it. "Ride now! Ride now! Ride! Ride for ruin and the world's ending!" He screams passionately, and I nearly do just as he commands. "Death!" He cries, holding his sword aloft.

"Death!" Replies the thousands of voices behind me, even Halwyn, who's been gathering the shieldmaidens, adding them to Eomer's eored as the speech had been going on. I find myself adding my voice to the mix, holding a fist clenched around my glock aloft, almost firing a shot for good measure, but know it would be nothing but a wasted shot.

"Death!" Theoden repeats. Again, the Rohirrim, myself included, roar the battle cry back at their Lord and King. This is repeated a few more times, each time more invigorating than the last, until finally, Theoden gives the order I suddenly am eager to obey; "Forth, Eorlingas!" He roars, pointing his sword at the Orcs below. The horns that announced our presence now signal our advance upon the Orcs.

With the order given, I kicked Gremund's sides and tugged the reins over to the left with Eomer. We thunder across the plains, the Riders and maidens cheering and letting out fierce battle cries. I look out to the Orcs, whose archers ready their arrows. My voice would be lost in the thunderous noise around me, but I cry out 'Archers!', anyway. Heedless, the Riders continue, some falling, pierced by arrows and still we ride. We don't break formation. We don't slow down.

I pull the hammer back and begin picking off as many archers as I can before Gremund rears up, crashing his hooves down on the nearest Orc. It's now clear that Gremund, like so many other Rohirric horses, are trained to handle battle. The orc, meanwhile, falls dead a second later, face horribly smashed in. I can't help but laugh wildly, as in the Battle of Helm's Deep, picking off as many of the foul creatures as I can, trying to cover Eomer's back as much as possible. On and on it goes, almost fun in a weird way, in spite of the chaos and death surrounding me. A few more daring Orcs get too close and are met with a shot to the heart and/or a hoof to the head. None get close enough to even think about reaching for my gun, which is how I want it to- -Nnoo!

"Gremund!" I scream, tumbling awkwardly off the valiant horse, who rears up to throw me off, an arrow to his chest, nickering softly as he collapses. I stand over him protectively and blink back tears to keep firing, screaming out my grief and rage at the murderous scum who had killed this brave, selfless horse. It seems stupid, but I can't help it. He had almost been like a friend to me, joining me in all my adventures in Middle-Earth.

And now he'd never ride out again. I'd never again swing into the saddle my feet are against. Eomer suddenly appears, fighting off Orcs even as he leads a riderless horse over toward me. I feel something lighten in my heart and being at the sight of him. I fire at the Orcs advancing behind him and then pause as I swing into the saddle.

"Thanks!" I say, managing a watery grin. Eomer looks on Gremund with a somber expression, mumbling what sounds like a prayer under his breath.

"He was a worthy steed, min leof. May his memory never fade." I nod, a single tear sliding down my cheek.

"I doubt it ever could." I reply, Then sigh heavily and lick my lips before wheeling my steed around and resuming firing into the crowding Orcs who are now more determined than ever to get my gun, some daring to grab at my legs, but they are easily dispatched.

All too soon, it seems, my gun clicks empty and I pale. Kicking away the current daring Orc, right into my husband's blade, I begin to reload the gun, relying on the nearby Rohirrim to cover me for a few moments until I cock the gun and unleash another round of fury on the filthy, grotesque things surrounding us. Again and again, shots ring out, each one corresponding to a fallen Orc, but at least a hundred more take the fallen's place, it seems.

However, with the Rohirrim's numbers and grim determination to bring as much death to the Orcs as possible, we eventually gain a kind of advantage, victory coming ever closer as we slay more and more of these cowardly vermin.

"Drive them to the river!" Eomer orders, smirking in victory as the Orcs began retreating. Distantly, I hear Theoden order us to 'make safe the city!' and then remember what I was supposed to do. I move to do just that when I encounter another problem; there's not as many bullets left in the box as I thought. Constantly firing into the armies of Mordor really saps one's bullet supply, turns out.

Great.

I begin reloading, resolved to make each and every bullet count, and it's then I notice a thundering in the very ground, coupled with Eomer's darkened, frightened look over my shoulder. It was something _very_ , _**very**_ heavy, coming this way. I wheeled my mount around, and blanched at what I saw.

 _Elephants_. Giant, tank-like elephants, stomping across the fields toward us.

"What on Earth- - _how_ are giant elephants fair?!" I seethe angrily, eyeing the rickety wooden towers strapped on the huge animals' backs, the tusks either lined or strung with spiked rope, making each swing of those huge heads deadly and devastating.

 _Frick_. We're _screwed_!

"You know of the mumakil?" Eomer asks breathily, eyes still locked on the sight before us.

"In a much smaller size, yes. We call them elephants." I reply, sounding as distracted as Eomer looked. My husband is then suddenly kissing me again for an all too brief moment.

"Min leof, you must now heed Theoden's command. Ride with the shieldmaidens into the city and aid the soldiers within. Secure the White City." He begs, hand on my cheek. "We'll deal with these newcomers." I swallow thickly. We both knew that was a false bravado he displayed. Thankfully, the shieldmaidens are already gathered.

In fact, they'd never left my vicinity. Halwyn then rides up, nodding grimly. I take a shaky deep breath and return the nod, gripping my gun tighter to ward off tears.

"Reform the line!" Is an order I hear distantly from Theoden, and I bite my lip. "Reform the line!" I pale as the Rohirrim obey without fear or hesitation.

" _No_!" I whimper. "They'll be slaughtered!" I squeak.

"Come!" Halwyn barks beside me. "Trust in the king, and do as he commands!" I take one last shaky breath and set my jaw.

"Go." I tell Halwyn. "I want to see if my gun can kill a mumakil. Then I'll join you. I won't have to go far to be in range." I explain. She shakes her head, but it is Eomer who replies.

"Min leof, I insist you leave for the city. Please do this." I shake my head resolutely.

"Mo gra, if I can help bring those things down before they kill too many Rohirrim, that's what I'll do." Eomer sets his jaw.

"Test your weapon on one, then please- -for the love of Bema- -ride with all speed for the city!" It isn't what I wanted originally, but it was, at least, agreeable.

"You heard him, Halwyn. Go. Start the ride. I'll be there in a moment." Thankfully, the woman knows when she is gainsaid and wheels her horse around. "Let's go, mo gra." And we ride toward the giant towering beasts as the second charge of the Rohirrim begins.

Coming up to one quickly, I slow my horse down and take aim. Firing once as it roars, I hit the roof of it's mouth. The thing roars, rearing up, and when it comes back down, I am nearly thrown from my saddle. Several men are landing, broken and bloodied, around the monstrous mumakil, and I fire again as it screeches in pain. Then, its legs wobble and shake and it finally collapses.

So. Two shots per mumakil. Interesting.

"You've found your answer, min leof." Eomer tells me, fighting off several angry men in scarlet and pitch black clothes. "Now it is time to head to the city."

"I can bring down the other mumakil!" I protest, but Eomer is resolute.

"Stick to our compromise, min leof." He insists. "Please, Rowena. For me." The plea in his tone has me pecking his lips.

"Make diabhal sure you make it back to me." I tell him sternly. "I love you."

"And I love you." He replies, nodding to Minas Tirith. I fire one last shot at an advancing man and wheel my mount around. For some reason, the men I'd killed don't weigh me down. I knew they were merely obeying orders, and that they were evil, twisted men.

They'd made their choice and so had I. It was them or me.

Riding as fast as I can, I encounter few Orcs and men that are stupid enough to stand in my way. I had not been as far as I thought from the gates, and the shieldmaidens had delayed as long as possible starting, to make sure I got to them. I joined them halfway to the gate, and from there, I get to the head of our line and we are soon at the gates. We'd left only dead bodies in our wake as we enter the city, and I give the order to fan out and clear the first level's streets. I ride up the main street with Halwyn and a handful of women. The soldiers of Gondor, hard pressed to contain and stem the tide of Orcs, are pleasantly surprised by our intervention, eagerly joining us and hacking with renewed energy.

"We're doing it! We're winning!" I cheer to Halwyn as we get closer and closer to the gate to the second level. "Listen, I need to find Seanathair, make sure he's okay." I then tell her. She looks confused, so I elaborate. "The wizard, Gandalf." She nods.

"We could use his help, Rowena. Go." And with that, I charge up through the battered gates. It doesn't look good, and I grit my teeth as I fire into the crowds of Orcs. Again, the soldiers join me eagerly, happy for the help. We decimate the offending forces, driving them back toward the larger force of shieldmaidens and Gondor soldiers in the first level.

Then, as if everything had been too easy til this point, my second mount is shot from under me by yet another Orc arrow. It grazes my thigh as it sinks into the horse's I grimace, but shake it off. The wound was only superficial, after all. My horse winnies and crashes, leaving me with barely enough time to get my legs out and leap off. I grit my teeth and shoot the archer responsible.

Making my way up the streets is harder now, as when I am on foot, the Orcs are not as afraid to approach me. One manages to grab me from behind, and I can't help a scream as it squeezes my chest. I kick at it's legs, but it moves them out of the way. I try to head-butt it, but it moves its head out of the way. Then, it stiffens, a strangled, gurgling sound coming from it's throat before its arms loosen and I wriggle free, shooting it in the head to ensure it was dead.

And there, standing a bit shocked, but elated to see me, is Pippin! I then forget the battle, I forget the Orcs around us. I hug him.

"Pippin! You're okay!" I cry giddily as I step back to examine him. He looks a bit dirty and shaken, but there are only a few minors cuts and bruises that I can see. However, it's his eyes that make me frown. They're afraid, worried, and desperate.

"I'm so glad I found you!" he squeaks, hugging my legs for a moment. I pat his head awkwardly, cocking a brow.

"What's wrong?" I ask. "Pippin!" The Hobbit is grabbing my hand and yanking me along the street.

"I need your help! Denethor is going to burn Faramir alive!" I blanch.

" _What_?!"

"No time! We've got to- -Gandalf!" He screams, tugging me along behind him helter-skelter down toward a flash of white among the silver of the soldiers and the black of the Orcs. I fire as I can, but with Pippin's hectic pace, my aim is unsteady. "Gandalf!" He cries again, coming closer to Seanathair, mounted on Shadowfax. He seems, like Pippin, dirty, but mainly undamaged. "Denethor has lost his mind!" The Hobbit squeaks. "He's going to burn Faramir alive!" Gandalf blanches, the words meaning more to him than to me, evidently.

"Come!" Seanathair cries, pulling Pippin onto Shadowfax. From somewhere behind me, a soldier presses the reins of a horse into my hands and I mount eagerly, taking off after my grandfather. We ride through the remaining levels, where the fighting is less, and encounter hardly any resistance. Then, just as we come to the last few turns, it seems, there came from above an unearthly screech, numbing me and filling me with an unknown terror. I stop my horse as Gandalf does Shadowfax as...some huge flying thing comes flying down, bearing on it a man, hooded and covered in all black, a fearsome helmet on his head with no face visible. He wears little armor, but it seems he hardly needs it, with his strange mount. "Go, Rowena!" Gandalf barks, eyes locked on the thing before us. "Go with Pippin!" And Pippin was unceremoniously tossed to me. "Complete our task!" I gulp fearfully, but do as he says.

"Gandalf!" Pippin protests, but I keep going. Hopefully, Seanathair would be alright. The wizard could handle that guy, right?

 _Right_?


	35. One Life Spared

***LOOKS AT 'LAST UPDATED' DATE, SCREECHES IN SHOCK* I AM SO SORRY! I SWORE I UPDATED SINCE MAY FIRST! SSSOOOORRRRYYY!**

 **REVIEW TIME!**

 **Emperor DeLacus: It's always a bit weird to write battle scenes, for me. I have no idea why, but am ecstatic you find it 'epic', my friend. Glad I can make people fangirl over my little story! Makes** _ **me**_ **fangirl just thinking about it, honestly. 81 reviews (so far, anyway) already?! Still blows me away. Anyway, hope that trouble gets fixed. I myself hate it when I don't get updates. Very irritating.**

 **Yasminasfeir1** **: ...So sorry. Your wonderful review is only in my email inbox. It didn't show up in the story review section. Weird. Anyway, glad you're liking my story!**

 **Sorting Hat (guest): Oh my...that was a** _ **lot**_ **of reviews to reply to at once. I** _ **love**_ **it! Going in terms of chapter numbers for the reviews, that storm was not strictly speaking 'normal', as it acted as a portal for Rowena to come to Middle-Earth. And this might have just been a fluke storm and gotten in a few good strikes during it's run.**

 **Um...what do you mean by 'EMP' in that context? To me, EMP means 'Electro-Magnetic Pulse', but that does not seem to fit here. Help?**

 **I have no idea what 'Earthbound' means, but okay! Glad you liked it! XD**

 **It** _ **is**_ **a re-telling of the book, twisting in my own inventions and the movies to make an original hybrid. I am not confident enough in my abilities to veer** _ **that**_ **far from the source material, but don't want to simply copy-and-paste the story with Rowena as a spectator.**

 **I know Meduseld isn't a** _ **huge**_ **hall, per se, but it** _ **is**_ **large enough for it to at least worry Rowena a little. She's in a new, unfamiliar place and the thought of her wandering it without a guide scared her a little.**

 ***WIPES BROW* PHEW, THAT WAS A LOT! ;) ANYWAY, ONTO THE STORY!**

 **AND TO Me and Not You 1001...I'M SORRY.**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!  
~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

"Pippin, he'll be fine!" I bark as Pippin struggles to keep his eyes where he'd last seen my grandfather. "Where are we going?" I ask. Pippin shook himself and pointed out where to turn. Soon, we arrive and I slow my mount before dismounting and catching Pippin as he leapt off, as well. We walk forward, listening with confusion to the sound of a swordfight. Pip seems to understand and races forward. I do, too, holding my gun at the ready. There were precious few bullets left, but I would have to make do until I found the space and time to reload.

Coming around a corner, I find three men fighting. Well, two older-looking men fighting a younger man. It seemed that the younger man was stopping the older ones from entering whatever was behind the door at his back. I frown, firing a shot at the doorpost to halt the fighting. True to my prediction, the men freeze, cringing at the noise.

" _Stop_!" I bellow savagely, and the men do as Pippin and I come forward. The younger man salutes Pippin and me with his sword in greeting. "Anyone want to tell me, one at a time, what is happening here?" I ask tersely. The younger man finds his tongue first.

"I am Beregond, milady. Steward Denethor has needlessly ordered himself and his son, Faramir, to die upon a pyre. Time is short. Please, stop this madness." He begs. I nod.

"Thanks." Grabbing Pippin's hand, I enter before any of the other two men can say a word. I find inside a cold, lonely stone room, like a museum displaying nothing but graves of those long dead. I shiver, then pale when I spot what's happening before me.

True to Beregond's word, the pyre is ready and upon it are two men, one laying down, one standing over the prone guy, arms outstretched as if proud to accept his fate, waiting for the torch, oil dripping from his face and robes. I race forward. " _Hey_!" I bark. Everyone's eyes are on me. "Get away from that pyre!" I roar at the guards about to touch torch to the wood, pointing my gun at them. They hesitate, unsure of what to do, taking a step or two backwards almost subconsciously. The standing man turns a sour, hideous glare to me.

"Who are you, _peasant_ , that would attempt to wrest this death from me and mine?" He growls, sounding proud, haughty, and unpleasant to listen to. "Speak, worm!" He snarls. Something snaps in me and I storm forward, anger hot in my veins and fury clouding my judgement, the gun's barrel aimed directly at his chest.

"I am Rowena, the last of the Istarindi, descendant of Gandalf the White, and wife of the heir of Rohan!" I growl. "And I _will_ kill you if you do not move away from that man!" I roar, pointing at the prone figure I take to be this Faramir person. I pull the hammer back, but the standing man- -Denethor, right?- -doesn't even bat an eyelid. "So _move_!" I roar in hot fury. The guards back away, fear of my unknown weapon working in my favor. Denethor, however, continues to sneer down at me.

"I care not for fancy weapons and wizard's whelps." He growls. "I will not be denied a proper, noble death!" I scoff.

"'Proper'?! 'Noble'?!" I seeth. "You think committing both suicide _and_ murder are 'noble' and 'proper'?! Dia, man, you're _insane_!" I snap. "Now get off that wood!" I add. He merely snatches the torch from a guard who had inched back forward at the show of his master's authority.

"Seize her!" Denethor orders as he does. The nearest guard takes my arm, wrenching it back and up at an extremely uncomfortable angle. I scream out in pain as another guard grabs my other arm and twists it into the same angle. My gun clatters to the floor and it skitters away as a guard kicks it. I buck and struggle, but- -too late- -the torch inches closer to the wood.

" _No_!" I scream, but just before the idiot can touch the fire to the wood, the doors burst open and in comes Seanathair. The guards thrust me away in fright as he storms in on Shadowfax.

"Stay this madness!" He bellows. Denethor turns to sneer at Gandalf, the torch still dangerously close to starting a fire.

"You may triumph in the field of battle for a day," He growls, "but against the power that is risen in the east, there _is_ no victory!" Denethor seethes.

"Tell that to the Rohirrim outside! We have the Orcs all but licked!" I snap. It was true. At least, until the mumakil and men showed up. Denethor merely jeers at me, reaching into his robes and pulling out a Palantir, of _all_ things! I blanch, numb in horror.

"Is that what you think?" He growls. "You know _nothing_! I have _seen_ it! If you wish to die fighting a hopeless battle, so be it! I will die with honor!" He screams, dropping the torch contemptuously.

" _No_!" I roar, rushing forward even as Seanathair does and try to get to Faramir, but Denethor kicks me back.

"Stay back, whelp, and do not interfere with matters above your understanding!" He growls. I get back up, wiping away the blood dripping from my now torn lip, as Gandalf knocks him off the pyre with his staff. The fire spreads as Pippin leaps onto the top of the pyre and I move to where Pippin is and prepare to catch him and Faramir. It turns out less graceful than we'd hoped and I end up with Faramir sprawled over my chest and Pippin rolling off my face before we sit up and start patting out the small fire on Faramir's shirt. Denethor then sits up and spots us, his face contorting in grief and rage.

"Nnnooo!" He roars and I scramble up to keep him from Faramir and Pippin. He's done enough damage. "You will _not_ take my son from me!" He seethes. I push him back.

"Says the man that would have killed Faramir just because he didn't want to fight!" I retort, and Denethor lunges forward in a rage, tackling me to the ground, pounding on my chest and face savagely. I unleash screams of pain, but somehow manage to keep him from moving toward Faramir.

"You wench!" He roars at me. "You who are not worthy to speak to me! How _dare_ you resist my commands?!"

"Because they're bat-crap crazy!" I manage to scream back at him, shoving his head away just as Seanathair tears forward on Shadowfax, who then rears up at the sight of the fire, kicking Denethor off me and onto the wood. I then pick myself up and move to check on Faramir, whose eyes are opening slightly. I place a hand on his brow. It's feverish and hot, but that may just be the fire. He moans and his father's head snaps to him. Denethor then looks the closest to remorseful I've ever seen him, as well as taken aback.

"Faramir…" He breaths. I stand over Faramir protectively.

"Stay _awa-_ -Whoah!' I gasp and curse under my breath as Denethor catches flame. I then move to hug Pippin to me. He didn't need to see this. The screams are bad enough.

"So passes Denethor, son of Ecthellion." Seanathair muses without much regret or sadness. The screams of Denethor continue just another moment, then all is silent. I then remember Faramir and race back, dragging the poor guy away from the increasing flames. He moans piteously and I can't help but feel bad, easing him down again when I no longer feel the heat of the flames before checking for wounds. I find none that are life-threatening.

So...why was he _still_ unconscious? I flounder around in my brain for an answer and find none. Nonetheless, I continue to look him over. There are a few arrow wounds, yes, but...they're not this bad! He shouldn't be this close to death because of them! I feel his brow again and find it still feverish, slick with sweat and oil. It's also even hotter than when last I checked.

"He's burning up!" Pippin squeaks, touching the other side of his forehead. "What do we do?!" I bite my lip. It's Theodred all over again. I swallow, tears brimming.

 _Please, Iluvatar,_ _ **please**_ _do not let me fail again! Please help me spare him!_ _ **Please!**_ I pray more earnestly than I have ever prayed before. I only know that I could not try to heal again and lose yet another of my charges. Almost without my realizing it, my hands start to search my satchel, and just when I give up hope, my fingers curl around something I knew was not there before; a pill bottle.

It was Ibuprofen. Laughing giddily, tears of relief running down my cheeks, I slip the cap off and pour two pills into my hand. Hopefully, with Faramir never having this medicine before, two should be enough to keep him from dying, at least, if not cure him entirely.

"What are you _doing_?!" Pippin asks, bewildered. I grab my waterskin and open the cap.

"Saving Faramir's life!" I reply, dumping the pills into Faramir's mouth before pouring as little water as possible into the unconscious man's mouth before closing it and reluctantly sealing his nose. In an instant, Faramir has swallowed the pills and is starting to gasp for breath, so I release his face as if burned. "There." I breath, checking to make sure the pills have actually done down. They had. "He's gonna be okay." _I hope_ , I think, but hold it in. Who knows how this medicine will affect this young man, but it _should_ do the trick. I then take a shaky breath and heave the man into my arms, the bruised areas protesting vehemently. Denethor had really done a number on me. Regardless, I awkwardly heave him onto my waiting mount. "Is there somewhere I can take him?" I ask, mounting and wrapping my arms securely around Faramir. Seanathair nods and leads Shadowfax expertly down streets and through many alleys before we get a large building easily as big as Meduseld, but made entirely of white marble, as was typical in this city.

"This is the House of Healing, from whence Faramir was taken before nearly falling to his father's folly." Gandalf says and I follow his swift lead through the city. I dismount and nearly buckle and collapse as Faramir's weight descends on me. Pippin takes his legs and we manage to get him inside.

"Help!" Pippin calls desperately.

"We need help!" I add. A woman comes bustling forward and takes Pippin's place. Within a minute, Faramir is situated on a cot and being fussed over by the kindly woman. "I treated him already, but still fear for him. Um, two arrow wounds, possibly infected and poisoned. I think his fever should break within the hour. The main thing he needs is- -" Interrupting us is the unearthly screech of the black-wearing man I swore Seanathair took care of earlier. It was not as potent this time, but it was accompanied by terrified screams and several sickening thuds I don't want to know about.

"Nazgul!" The woman hisses fearfully, throwing herself protectively over Faramir, taking care not to touch him. I cock a brow at the title, but its presence reminds me of the battle. I _have_ to get back out there. I lick my lips. I think my gun is back in the pyre room. I spin on my heel to remount and head back, when Seanathair puts a hand on my shoulder.

"It does not do to leave such a thing lying about, henig." He cautions with a playful twinkling in his eyes, the glock balanced on his free hand. I run forward and finally embrace him, forgetting all about the glock and the battle for a moment.

"I missed you, Seanathair!" I tell him genuinely.

"And I, you, Winnie." He replies before drawing back and patting my shoulder. "Now come. We have delayed too long and I fear events have occurred that I should have stopped, if not for Denethor." He says. I glance back toward Faramir, sigh, then pick up the gun, putting it in its holster before squaring my shoulders.

"Alright." Seanathair smiles proudly at me and nods. In moments, we are mounted (Pippin in Seanathair's arms on Shadowfax) and Halwyn is shocked as I come through the gate to the third level. I threw her a slightly smug salute as we pass. She looks at me like 'I don't even want to know...do I?'. I just shrug as we ride on past her, me shooting the few remaining Orcs in this level. as we leave.

We ride into the fray outside that has mainly died down. I then frown as I take everything in. There are green...somethings washing over the fields everywhere, and it isn't til one passes directly in front of me that I realize it's a ghostly warrior, hell-bent on destroying all Orcs in its path. Ghosts?! Really?!

"What is going on?" Halwyn all but demands with a smirk. "I thought you were lost! Where did you- -what did you _do_?"

"I found Seanathair." I reply, smiling, before I hear that almighty screech of the Nazgul once again, and I go numb with horror, scrunching my eyes closed and clasping my hands to my ears. "Good Bema, that's horrible!" I scream. I then make the mistake of looking around.

The fell flying thing from before is screeching as a Rohir hacks at its neck. Its rider sits calmly as their mount is slain. I begin riding over.

Only to have an arrow land in my right hip, just above the bone, but just below my ribcage. I unleash a scream of agony and automatically reach to pull the arrow out, before I am halted. The world is shaky, tilting and spinning like crazy and I feel sick, but the hand of my husband is grounding and helps slightly.

" _No_ , min leof!" Eomer cries, the utmost concern on his face, eyes locked on my hip. "That arrow would only tear your flesh worse if you tried to- -Winnie?!" I was suddenly puking over the side of my horse, the world tilting and spinning crazily. Black stars and spots danced in my eyesight, slowly consuming it entirely. Fuzzily, I come to the realization that I had been shot with a poisoned arrow, but it's too late as my eyes roll up and I slip off my horse.


	36. The House of Healing

**GOOD GOD,** _ **HOW**_ **HAVE I GOTTEN 90 REVIEWS ALREADY?! THAT'S** _ **AWESOME**_ **! THANK YOU TO EVERYONE RIDING ALONG WITH ME ON THIS JOURNEY! HONESTLY! NOW, ONTO THE REVIEWS!**

 **Jo: Glad to hear it, friend! That cliffhanger was a tad evil, but I had pretty much not done one for the story before, and so felt 'justified' in giving you all one now. ;)**

 **Me and Not You 1001: *bows, blushing* Th-thank you. Wow…'my love', huh? I like it! XD *winks* Glad to know you think I 'outdo' myself! Seriously makes my day!**

 **Emperor DeLacus: Sorry about the cliffie; couldn't resist! ;) And I do think, if it comes down to it, Rowena** _ **is**_ **a badass. She just hadn't had the opportunity to** _ **really**_ **let it out til now. Glad you liked the Battle of Pellenor Fields and Rowena's part in it! I am honestly blown away by how I got so much attention on a little outlet for my nerdy energy, but I thoroughly enjoy it! Good to hear you are looking forward to more, because here it is! XD**

 **ONTO THE STORY!**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

 _I slowly open my eyes to find I am in a hall much like Meduseld, but much grander and much more exquisite._

" _Welcome, child." Comes a voice behind me. I whirl and find no pain in my movements, but that revelation vanishes when I see what- -or_ _ **who**_ _\- -is behind me._

 _An unearthly, stern, but kind looking elderly man in an armchair that was far more regal and authoritative than any throne I had ever seen, in my world or in Middle-Earth. He looked different than Seanathair, but not by much. I suppose this man is what Seanathair might look like if he had been an Elf; entrancingly beautiful, with an unmistakably irresistible quality about him, as if he were the very embodiment of all things good and beautiful. I liked him right away, and felt comforted in his presence._

" _Where am I? What is this place?" I ask reverently, gazing around in awe. He smiles._

" _This is the Timeless Palace, and you are here because it is time you have all the answers to your persisting questions, and to become who you were always meant to eventually become." He says. I nod, frowning a little. I had persisting questions? "I am Eru Iluvatar, my child, and you are about to die." He then adds, destroying my previous train of thought instantly. I frown, cocking a brow at that. Iluvatar...as in...the God of Middle-Earth?!_

 _And...did he say I was about to_ _ **die**_ _?!_

 _Frick! NO,_ _ **NO**_ _,_ _ **NO**_ _!_

" _I beg your pardon?" I ask as politely as possible in my shock. Eru laughs, a merry sound that fills the air and brings a gentle warmth and comfort, as if I had felt a cool breeze on a lazy summer day._

" _It's quite alright, my dear. You will not be going to Valinor just yet. No, no. I have no desire to spirit you away yet again."_

"' _Yet again'?" I repeat, calming slightly in one area and getting worried in another. He nods._

" _But of course. Now, I must say, you are quite the traveler, Rowena O'Neil. Vaire must be having quite an enjoyable time weaving your story." He chuckles to himself for a moment. "Ah, but I digress. My dear, you are indeed the last Istarindi, and have been between worlds more times than you realize." I tilt my head._

" _What do you mean?"_

" _Simply put, I mean that when Gilbren passed and you were stillborn, your Fea was recalled and sent via the fickle portal system to the couple you know as your parents. There, it settled in your mother's womb and you grew and were nurtured and adored by your other-world parents until it was time for you to return to Arda." I blank for a moment at all this information._

" _So...I have_ always _been an Istarindi? I just didn't know?"_

" _Quite so. Olorin- -that is, the Istari you know as Gandalf or Seanathair- -came close with his theorizing on the matter, but- -alas- -he did not quite get it precisely right. You know, your grandfather is one of my more favored creations, if I were pressed to rank them. He is the only Istari actively resisting the Dark Lord anymore. And that is why I cannot abandon him. That is why you were returned to your rightful home." I blink. "To assist him." This was a lot to think over and remember and evaluate._

" _I'd like to return now. If that's alright." Eru nods._

" _So be it. Fare thee well, Rowena. May your days..." He says, voice fading as a gentle, comforting darkness came over me and I fell asleep once more._

=#=#=#=#=

It was a slow, painful process, waking up. I was loathe to give up the comfort unconsciousness provided. Especially after whatever dream I had just had. I could not remember details, but all I know is that it was like a breeze over a peaceful summer field; impossible to catch, but longed for all the same. I wanted to sigh contentedly, but found the pain all over my body enough to dissuade me.

That, and once I was nearly able to open my eyes, I hear sobbing. I slide my eyelids back and am met with a dimly lit room with a muddled, fuzzy grey ceiling far above. As my eyes and other senses sharpen, I come to discover my poor husband, silently crying into his hand as he sat in a nearby chair. I swallow and try to sit up, wondering what could make him sob like that, but can't seem to get the question out. Instantly, his gently strong hands are pressing me back into the mattress I lay on.

"M-min leof, don't try to move. The poison nearly stole you away. Do not tire yourself." I reach up to touch his arm comfortingly. There were dark bags under his eyes and tear stains down his face. I frown. What happened? How long was I...oh, man. What happened?!

"How long have I been out?" I ask raspily, licking my lips. He sighs.

"Nearly five hours now." I groan.

"Did we win?" I ask stupidly. If we hadn't won, I'd be dead, and so would he. Eomer gives a watery chuckle as he smooths hair from my face.

"Yes, min leof. Rest now. Regain your strength." There's clearly something more he wants- -or _needs-_ -to tell me, but he is choosing not to just yet. I take a breath and relax into the mattress.

"As you wish, Eomer."

"I'll be right here til you awake, Winnie. It will be alright." I nod wearily and let the darkness take me once more, though some distant part of my mind wondered just who he was talking to with that last sentence.

=#=#=#=#=

When I wake again, Eomer is (as he said) right beside me in his chair. This time, he is asleep, curled with his head on the cot and hand in mine. I smile.

"Glad to see you awake." A raspy voice whispers from beside me. I turn and see that Faramir's eyes are open and he has a small smirk. That, and he is propped up with pillows into a half-seated position. I grin, slowly moving to sit up myself, careful not to wake Eomer.

"Same to you." He cocks a brow. "I, ah, was, um, I heard about your condition while you were still unconscious." I lie, feeling horrible about it. He doesn't look convinced, but doesn't speak for a long moment.

"I remember you." He eventually confesses slowly. I pale. Crud. _How_ could he remember anything? He had been out cold for most of the pyre incident in that awful, cold place. Right?

"Really?" I ask. "How? I don't think we have met." It was partially true; we hadn't been introduced, but I knew his name and that he is that idiot Denethor's son.

"Perhaps." He replies uncertainly. "Still, your face is familiar, somehow." I nod, licking my lips.

"Well, my name is Rowena." I introduce myself, trying and failing for a smile.

"I am Faramir, son of the Lord Steward Denethor II." He replies. I nod, trying not to let it show that this was superfluous. I knew his name already, though admittedly not coupled with his title.

"Pleasure to meet you." I reply. He sighs.

"I am glad you may still find pleasure, milady. I myself find it an all too rare feeling in these times." I swallow at the hollow, lost, listless edge to his voice.

"D-do you want to talk about it?" I ask timidly, playing with my fingers absently. "I've heard it helps some people. 'Burden shared is a burden halved' and all that." Faramir swallows thickly. Were those tears in his eyes? Frick, I've screwed this all up!

"There is so much death and misery surrounding us. Not a single person is unaffected by this drawn out war. Everyday, more children become fatherless, sometimes orphaned, and more loving wives are widowed and left to fend for themselves and their families. 'Tis a sad, cruel world we live in, milady. I myself have taken a grievous wound at the loss of my brother, Boromir." I bite my lip, unsure of how to respond. I'd heard about Boromir, and wondered just how much poor Faramir knew about his brother's last moments. And just now got a glimpse of how his death was affecting those closest to him.

"I am so sorry." I mumble awkwardly. "I know there's nothing I can really say or do to help, but...that is truly sad to hear." He sighs.

"You yourself are affected by this thrice-accursed war, as well, yes?" I sigh. He spoke the truth. I almost didn't notice the changes, but they were there.

"I suppose. This war stole my peace of mind, my reluctance to draw my weapon and kill, even men...but not my heart- -at least, not entirely." I confess. "I have a husband, and I love him dearly." Faramir nods, eyeing the slumbering Marshall.

"I met him when I awoke. I even managed to convince him that I would watch over you while he moved to get some food and rest." I nod gratefully. "He's been asleep for near an hour now."

"Thank you. He's a stubborn, but loving, man."

"And a newly crowned king, I hear." I freeze up, paling. That could only mean one thing; one impossible, terrible thing...

" _What_?" I breathe shakily, unwilling to believe what I had heard. Faramir frowns.

"Surely, you heard of Lord Theoden's death?" He asks slowly, reluctantly. I swallow thickly, my mind rebelling vigorously against the words. Good God, let it not be true. Please, _please_ , _**please**_...

"I...I had not." I manage to choke out through a constricted throat and burning eyes. Tears begin to hit my sheets. "H-how did he die?" I whimper, looking at the growing wet spot in my lap. It was inches from Eomer's hair.

"I hear it was the Witchking of Angmar, and that the Horse-Lord was avenged." Faramir replies heavily. "One of the Rohirrim, I believe, took up his dying master's fight when Theoden fell, crushed and broken beneath his horse." I sob brokenly into my hand at that, curling into myself in spite of the pain it bring me in my right side. I can't help it.

Theoden had been a father-esque figure to me here. He was nothing but encouraging and loving toward me. I only wish I could have said goodbye. But it was too late now. Dead. Theoden was _dead_.

I distantly hear Faramir tell me something, but I cannot distinguish a word in my grief.

Eventually, I find I must have cried myself to sleep, for I open my eyes to find noon-time sunlight flooding the room. I grimace and sit up again, nearly whimpering at the pain in my hip again.

"How are you, min loef?" Eomer's voice asks beside me. I sigh heavily and turn my head to look at him.

"I...I've been better." I reply awkwardly, fiddling with my fingers. "I still feel a bit nauseous, but I guess that's to be expected from poison." He nods, sinking further into his chair and leaning his head against the back of it in exhaustion.

"That is heartening to hear. I had need of good news." I swallow.

"So...you heard about...about Theoden?" I choke out, tears burning in my eyes again. Eomer's eyes shut tight, as if to block the sight and memory from returning. Or to keep tears from falling.

"I was there when...when he passed. With his last breath, he pronounced us Lord and Lady of the Mark." He all but sobs. I then take a shaky deep breath and stand, hugging my husband before he can protest, though I nearly fall into his arms as my hip refuses to bear weight. I hadn't given any thought to what my title would be if I married Eomer; I only knew I loved him and that was enough. Now...I was a Queen. Queen of Rohan, and I had no idea what to do, how to act, or how to rule an entire people. Being Commander of the Shieldmaidens were one thing, but... _all_ of Rohan?! No _way_ I was ready, but then again…neither was Eomer.

We were _all_ caught unprepared for Theoden's death. It hit us hard and unexpectedly. Now, we were stuck with the aftermath.

I don't say anything. What _could_ I say? I just hold him and we both let out our emotions in the form of tears and sobs for an unknown time. Eventually, in his exhausted state, Eomer falls asleep, and I stagger a little under his weight. I then gently try to pick him up, gritting my teeth against the pain, and slowly get him on the bed, my hip paining me horribly, but at least I can give my husband proper rest.

Iluvatar knows he needs it.

Once Eomer was settled in my cot, I slowly began to make my way around the cots, searching for anyone I recognized, hoping against hope that no one I knew had been claimed by the war we had waged against Sauron's forces, though I knew it was likely. So far, luckily, no one's face is familiar. Then, as I moved into another room, I found that my legs were suddenly pinned together and I have to brace against the wall, looking down at see a short mop of curly sandy brown hair and Rohir armor.

It was Merry.


	37. The Lady and the Esquire

_**HOW**_ **DID I LOSE MY DECENT UPLOAD SCHEDULE?!** _ **WHAT**_ **HAPPENED?! AH, WELL. HERE'S ANOTHER CHAPTER FOR YOU ALL, BUT FIRST THINGS FIRST: REVIEWS.**

 **RobinHood4ever: Welcome, friend! Glad to know you want more of my story! XD**

 **Jo: Awesome! I went for the realistic, angsty route as opposed to the comfort-filled fluffiness I was kinda tempted to do initially. ;) Anyway, glad you still like my story.**

 **Emperor DeLacus: Of** _ **course**_ **she's alright! I would** _ **never**_ **kill her off! Me and Not You 1001 would hunt me down like Bambi's mom if I did! XD Yes, as Eomer's wife, she is the Queen of Rohan. I look forward to writing her adjusting to that role as much as you are excited to read it, friend! The scene with Eru came, like the proposal scene, out of** _ **nowhere**_ **, really. I was just...'okay. This totally works! Awesome!' and rolled with it. There could be more dream-meetings with the Valar in the future, if you want. Who knows?**

No word was said as I steadied myself. I pat his head awkwardly and gently removed his hands so I could kneel down (pointedly ignoring any and all pain) to hug him to me. He then broke and sobbed into my shoulder as my own tears flooded my eyes. Neither of us needed to acknowledge why we wept; it was on both our minds like the clouds heralding a thunderstorm.

"Merry, you know he was immensely fond of you." I tell him. "You gave him a lot more laughter than he would have had otherwise." It's the best I can do. Merry merely tightens his grip miserably.

"But I still c-c-could not st-stop the Nazgul from ki-killing him!" He sobs. "It is all my fault he's gone!" I shush him gently.

"No, Merry! That's not true!" I protest, but he shakes his head.

"It _is_ true! You weren't there!" He cries despondently. I bite my lip. He had a point.

"Yeah, maybe you're right. How about you tell me what happened and I'll decide if you are guilty or not, hmm?" He reluctantly nods.

"Well, I was in in the middle of the battle, riding along with Eowyn, when an Oliphaunt- -those giant things the wicked men rode- -crashing down took out our horse and we were separated. I searched for her, fighting off men and Orcs as I did, when I see that flying thing the Nazgul rode swooping in toward where I knew Theoden was. I went over that way to help Theoden, but by the time I managed to fight my way there, Eowyn was doing battle with the Nazgul. I then crawled over so the Nazgul wouldn't see me and stabbed him with my sword as he held Eowyn by the throat. He released her and she stabbed his face." He then sighs and shrugs. "And then the Nazgul perished and Theoden and I- -we said...said goodbye. Theoden thanked me for sparing the time to discuss Hobbit business with him, and I...I asked his forgiveness for disobeying his order not to come and not doing him much service. He forgave me and then...then told me he would not be ashamed now in his forbears' presence, where he would soon be." I swallow.

"He never should have thought he'd be ashamed in his forebears' presence!" I protest. Merry nods.

"I told him so, then...Eowyn got to say goodbye. She said she was going to save him, but he said she already had and t-then Eomer rode up." He chokes back sobs, and I realize just how much this is affecting my friend. I gently lift his chin so I can look him in the eye.

"Merry, you don't have to keep talking. I get it."

"N-no, you deserve to know; you were as close as Eomer and Eowyn to Theoden." He takes a shuddering breath and continues, "Eomer was obviously distraught, and...then Theoden called him 'son' one last time...asked if Eomer would tell you he called you 'daughter', then pronounced you two rulers of Rohan. It was...awful to witness." I hug him tighter. Theoden...called me 'daughter'? _Why_ wasn't I there?! I _should_ have been there!

"I know. I'm so sorry! I..I should have been there!" I growl at myself before I could stop it. Merry steps back a little, eyeing me in shock.

"Winnie, _no_! You were obeying Theoden's last order to you. More than I can say…" I frown.

"Merry, was he upset by your decision to come anyway?"

"Well, no, but- -"

"Rowena?!" That's Eomer. "Min leof?!" He's woken up. I stand, grimacing as I put weight on my hip before leaning off it. He'd needed a _lot_ more sleep than that.

"Then let it not burden you. Come on." I lean on my friend a little as we start walking. He eyes the bandages in alarm.

"Oh, Winnie! What happened?!" I chuckle as Merry takes my arm over his shoulder, which was akin to being led by a child.

"I was wondering why an arrow was getting bigger. Then it hit me." I quip, desperate to see a smile on my friend's face again. Merry frowns, confused, before he smiles a little and manages a watery chuckle.

"That's not very funny." He mumbles. We enter the room Eomer was in, and found him searching the beds. I force myself to look away and chuckle, ruffling Merry's hair good-naturedly as we pause for a moment.

"I thought it was. The wound is a lot better than it used to be." Merry shakes his head, but before he can reply, I am being held, bridal style, in Eomer's arms.

"Min leof, you should not be out of bed!" He protests. I chuckle as I am fussed over and tucked in like a child. I then grimace a little as my stomach suddenly churned with nausea. What in the world? Regardless, I push that feeling aside and place a hand on my husband's shoulder.

"Eomer, I'm feeling a lot better! Really! You don't- -" His eyes, shining with tears, alert me that there's something more than spousal worry behind his actions. I touch his hand with mine and he stills, taking a breath before speaking.

"Rowena, I thought...I thought maybe there- -that you- -that there'd been a resurgence in the poison." He all but sobs. I swallow, grabbing his hand and putting it over my heart. He frowns, then breathes out when he feels my heartbeat.

"I'm here, Eomer. Here, and here to stay." I tell him. "I'm really sorry I scared you." I apologize genuinely. He exhales.

"Please, min leof, just stay in bed, at least until tomorrow." I sigh.

"Okay." I concede. Then remember something that has me sitting upright and nearly on my feet again. "Eomer, where's…" My head cleared of blood and I nearly fainted. "Where's Eowyn?" I ask when the room stops spinning. I find I've been laid back in bed during the near fainting spell with Eomer leaning worriedly over me.

"She's resting in another ward, min leof, and Aragorn himself is tending to her. Now, you must follow her example. Rest." And, as if hypnotised, I obey immediately, my eyes sliding closed.

=#=#=#=#=

I wake to find that Eomer somehow fit beside me on the cot and that his arm was _not_ moving anytime soon. I smile and realize it's sometime in the night, and that I would not be able to go back to sleep. Slowly, carefully, I ease my way out, taking care not to move my hip too much, if avoidable. He stirs only a little, but I had slipped my pillow into his arm, so he did not wake. I feel a little bad, but I'll come back (hopefully) before dawn. I just...need to get out and away from the wounded for the moment.

"Milady?" I flinch. Faramir, too, is awake, it seems. I wave him back to bed, but he merely stands and doesn't say another word as we leave. He seems to get that I need to get out, and wants to join me. Who am I to deny him? "What is it that troubles you, milady?" He asks when we're clear of sleeping ears. I frown.

"All of this...this war. It...it has taken so much from so many in so short a time." I confess. "Theoden's death, also. He called Eomer, Eowyn, and me his children before he died, and I was not there to thank him and say my goodbyes." I add, tears brimming as I sink gratefully onto a bench. We sit in the courtyard I had ridden into with the man beside me just hours, it feels, before now.

"Aye, but...for all this darkness, I find that there is still light in the world. For instance, I recently met a halfling who joined the Tower Guard. He's a pleasant little fellow, if far out of his depth." I nod.

"So _that's_ why Pippin wore armor and those nice clothes!" I chuckle. "I was wondering." Faramir chuckles, as well.

"Yes, it was quite a sight. In fact, it brought up memories. You see, the livery is mine from my youth. Boromir and I wasted hours avoiding tutors and playing at being knights." I smile. "He was always better at it, though. I always prefered to read." There was fondness interlaced with grief in my new friend's eyes.

"I heard about Boromir before you told me. I...didn't meet him, but he seemed a good man, from what I hear." I reply. "I don't blame you for wanting to read, though; mom said the library was the only place besides our house I ever truly _wanted_ to be. We lived near one." Faramir chuckles.

"I can relate, milady. In fact, when I was around 5 winters, maybe 6, I would ask Boromir or Mother to read to me, quickly picking up on what was written on the pages." I laugh.

"Similar to me, Faramir. I used a phonetics...book to figure out the letters and how they sounded. Then, it was a quick study til I could read on my own. I ran to my mother and proudly spelled 'cat', 'rat', and other three letter words for her." Faramir laughed, and I realized that maybe, if _this_ was why I was here, to keep laughter and joy and friendship alive...then that wasn't the worst thing in the world. The vanquishing of Sauron would be a hollow victory if there was no joy, love and laughter left to greet the new day with.

Sure, this war sucks and it's taken it's toll on everyone, but if I could only keep the lighter side of life in mind, helping others do the same, if that was why I was in Middle-Earth, then that was fine by me.

"I remember you now." Faramir muses after several silent, companionable moments. I feel my gut squirm, fearing I knew what he was talking about, but force my face and manner to remain unchanged.

"Really?" I ask, struggling to keep my voice neutral, yet politely engaged.

"Aye. It's hard to forget when someone delivers you from death." I can't help a chuckle.

"And just how might I have done that, milord?" I ask.

"Faramir, please." He replies automatically. "And you and Pippin dragged me from a pyre. A pyre my father died on." I flinch, my body betraying me. The calm, even facade crumbled and I slump.

"I...any sane person would have done the same. I hadn't meant to cost you your father, though." Faramir's hand on mine startles me and I look at him.

"Your actions are a debt I know I cannot repay." He says softly. "And not everyone has the courage to defy my father's ill-advised orders...not even his kin." He mumbles, gazing at the ground despondently. I swallow, but wait for him to either change the subject, or continue and explain himself. There was no need to push him. "My father has always favored Boromir. It was obvious to everyone, except Father, of course. There was nothing to be done, however, try as my brother might to change Father's opinion of me. Boromir was more my father than the Steward ever was, and we relied on each other constantly all our lives, after mother passed." I bite my lip, squeezing his hand in comfort, not interrupting him with speech. "When the need arose for one of us to go to Rivendell to seek answers to a riddle revealed in a dream, Boromir never hesitated. Neither did I, but Father told me he did not trust me with the task, and Boromir went in my stead, to his doom." The tears in his eyes make me scoot a bit closer, wrapping a friendly arm around his shoulders.

"Faramir, I am so sorry." I whisper. It's a poor excuse for comforting words, but...it's something. "If you ask me, your father didn't deserve you. He threw away his sons' loyalty and love, squandering it when it should have been his most prized possession." A bitter, humorless chuckle from Faramir surprises me.

"For so long, I longed for my father's approval, striving to be every inch the son Boromir was. Even so, he told me he wished I had died and Boromir had lived before ordering me to reclaim Osgilliath from the garrison of Orcs that overcame my own. Which is how I came to be as near death as I was on that pyre." I felt emptied, numb. I could only shake my head in disbelief. The more I hear about this guy, the more I hate him. Then, as if some spell were broken, Faramir sobs and leans into my shoulder. I maneuver myself into a more comfortable position for both of us and just let him grieve. Eventually, tears start streaming down my face and I bite my lip to keep the sobs in. Everything was crashing down on me, and I felt like I was all alone, even in a crowded city like Minas Tirith. Slowly, our tears are spent and we wipe the remnants away, finding that it was now nearly dawn. I curse under my breath and stand. If Eomer woke again without me...oh, boy. I thoughtlessly help Faramir up. He still seems a bit weak from all the poison in his system, but is otherwise okay.

"I should have offered you aid, milady, not the other way around."

"No worries, Faramir. I don't mind at all." I reply. "I should head back to my husband now. He'll be worried." Faramir nods.

"I think I might be able to sleep now." I smile.

"That's good. I know I won't get any more sleep, but you should, if you can." I reply as we near our cots and nod one last time in farewell. He slips back into his cot and in minutes his breathing has deepened and he is limp on the mattress. I sigh heavily and wish I could do the same. But I can't.

For about half an hour. I then doze off a bit, waking up to Eomer's arm gripping me tighter. I gasp when my hip sent up flares of agony, then take a deep breath to settle myself down again. Maybe I could get another hour of sleep…

"Min leof?"


	38. The Royal Treatment

**SWEAR I AM NOT DOING THIS ON PURPOSE! :( ANYWAY, REVIEW RESPONSE TIME!**

 **Emperor DeLacus: Well, of _course_ Eomer's protective of Winnie! ;) She's his _wife_! Plus, she nearly died from that poisoned arrows, so that didn't help. Glad you liked it! **

**Jo: Thank you!**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

Too late. No way I was getting sleep _now_.

"Good morning, mo gra." I reply. He sighs, sinking into the mattress.

"If only it were, after yesterday." I force myself to turn over and ignore the flare of pain this brings to look him in the eye.

"My mom always says 'tomorrow is a fresh day. Don't let the troubles of yesterday affect today too much', or something to that effect. I'm butchering the exact quote, but the meaning was clear; don't worry so much about what was and live a day at a time." I sigh heavily, then smile. "You know...it's about time for breakfast and I'm hungry." He smiles, sighs and stands, gallantly sweeping me into his strong arms and nuzzling my neck lovingly.

"As am I, Deorest." I chuckle at the unfamiliar term.

"'Deorest'?" I ask playfully as I am carried out to the very bench I'd sat on not an hour ago. Eomer settles himself on the bench with me in his lap.

"It means 'beloved' or 'dearest' in the Rohirric tongue. Much like min leof, or mo gra in your tongue." I nod, smiling.

"I'll add it my list of names." I quip, settling myself so I can kiss my loving husband. He deepens the kiss hungrily before slowly breaking apart, leaning his forehead against mine.

"I fear that list will grow. 'Your Majesty', 'Milady', 'Mistress' will be frequent titles for you." I sigh. I can tell it's meant seriously, but can't let all the humor leave. It's hard to coax it out of it's cave these days.

"I know." I crack a smirk. "Pity. I had just gotten people to _stop_ with the formal titles. Now, I fear they will be doubled." He chuckles a little and I lean in to peck his cheek. "But, as long as I am your wife, and your Deorest, there's no title that could scare me away or make me regret my decision to marry you." He merely claims my mouth with his again and we know nothing more than pure love and bliss for a long moment.

"I would say the same to you, my love." He breaths. I smile, leaning my forehead on his.

"Now...I seem to recall us discussing something about food?" I ask wryly, smirking. He laughs.

"Indeed. Let us see if we can find something."

"I can help with that." Comes a gruff voice I didn't think I'd get to hear again, at least for a long time.

Gimli. I whirl and almost fall to the floor, Eomer's strong arms all that spared me. I laugh as we both stand.

"Morning, Gimli!" I greet happily, grimacing a little as his strong arms encase my waist. When he pulls away, his eyes wrinkle in a wry grin that does not bode well. At all.

"I hear you and your horse-lord are married, milady." He muses with a knowing smirk. "Couldn't restrain yourself, eh, laddie?" He asks, nudging Eomer with his elbow, striking my husband's hip. I stand, leaning on Eomer for support as I grin. With Gimli, wry humor and blunt wit were the way to go.

"It was actually a mutual agreement that we shouldn't wait too long." I reply, sounding innocent, but smirking wryly. Gimli gapes for a moment before guffawing and clapping my and Eomer's shoulders.

"May Durin bless you both." He says heartily. "Now, Aragorn has gotten slightly ahead of me in our journey to find sustenance since I heard you two lovesick fools. What say we catch up and have a Gondorian breakfast with the soon-to-be King of Gondor?" He asks jovially, striking out at a healthy pace I can't quite keep up with.

"Gimli, slow- -ow!- -slow down!" I call, wincing as I stumble a little, that blasted hip acting up again. I shake my head at Eomer's clear invitation to resume the bridal style carry once again. "As long as our guide slows down, I'll be fine." I tell my King and husband. Gimli pales when he see my hand clasp my injury.

"Milady, are you hurt?!" He all but squeaks, flushed in embarrassment. I grin.

"Merely an arrow wound. Feels better than yesterday, but still hurts." He frowns.

"And you are walking already? Surely, Winnie, you are the hardiest woman I've ever met." He replies, gallantly drawing my arm over his shoulders and leading me away, leaving me to gaze back with exasperated fondness at Eomer. He laughs and follows easily.

=#=#=#=#=

As soon as I see Aragorn, I grin widely and leave Gimli to (as best I can) run forward and hug my friend.

"Don't you _ever_ scare me like that again!" I bark, drawing away and punching his shoulder. "I heard all about the Paths of the Dead, and then you go down there with those Rangers and Legolas and Gimli, and...and I thought I'd never see my adopted older brother again!" Suddenly, I'm going from fondly frustrated to slightly depressed and worried. "You're okay, right? What happened?" I ask, now going straight to an almost maternal concern. Bema, what is wrong with me?! Aragorn chuckles.

"It is not as dangerous as some say it is, the Paths of the Dead. That is, as long as the King of Gondor travels with you. Only he can control those that dwell down that dark path." He replies. I nod.

"So, you set out to discover and lead an invincible army into battle to reclaim Minas Tirith and Osgiliath with your Rangers as back up, with no guarantee it would work when you began to ride down the path?" I ask, slightly incredulous and feeling almost childishly inquisitive. Aragorn nods.

"Essentially, yes. I knew I had to at least _try_ , if it could even possibly help us win this war." He says as we find ourselves in a small tavern, tucked away down a side street and almost invisible to the unattentive observer.

"You're insane, but it did help, so…" I quip, shrugging with a wry grin, as we sit at a table, inconspicuous and just another set of customers to be served. I liked it here already. We're served water or ale (whichever we chose; I wanted water), bread, meat, and cheese with boiled eggs and we tuck in heartily.

"How'd you find this place, Aragorn?" I ask, sipping my water. He sighs contentedly and leans back against the back of the bench we sit at.

"I once served Gondor under the name Thorongil. This was the tavern I most frequented. Fortunately, the bartender can turn a blind eye, as long as his patrons pay the required price for his goods." I nod.

"It's not bad food, either. Good choice." The food is then eaten with little more words. Then, nearing ten in the morning, we left, only to run into a messenger along the way back to the Houses of Healing.

"Milord Eomer King," The man stammered out, breathless from running, "I've been sent by Mithrandir to inform you that your sister, the Lady Eowyn, has awoken and asked for you to, and I quote, 'get his newlywed arse over here immediately, or face the consequences'." He finishes with a smirk. Eomer laughs.

"Well, then. I shall go." He says, subtly taking my hand. "That is, if Eowyn would permit her marriage sister to accompany me." The man smirks.

"I do not doubt she'd allow it." He replies. We are led to Eowyn's ward in the wing adjacent to the one we'd been staying in in the Houses of Healing and find that Eowyn is seated, propped up by pillows. Her eyes light up when she sees us, but I can hardly notice as my breath slips away from me and I begin to feel increasingly woozy. Perhaps going up all those stairs two at a time was _not_ my brightest moment.

"Hello, brother!" She greets. "And my marriage sister! Oh, I am so happy you're alright, Rowena. I heard about what happened and feared the worst. They told me- -well, doesn't matter; it was more than a lie told in a fevered dream." There's something she's not saying, but I let it slide, unwilling to press her just yet, at least not until the world stopped tilting and spinning. "I am so glad to see you alive and well!" I smile, but can't manage to do much of anything else for a moment as my head swirls almost painfully, my ears ringing with the lack of blood. It felt like I'd either stood up too fast, or had been doing a handstand for several minutes.

"The wound's getting...better…I thought..." I mumble, feeling increasingly dizzy. "Oh, boy..." I blearily add as I all but collapse to the floor.

"Deorest, what is it?!" Eomer asks in shock and worry.

"I just...man, I...I don't- _-Agh_!" I suddenly double over as my stomach writhes in agony. Immediately, I am in my husband's arms and he leaves the room, all but bumping into Seanathair.

"Mithrandir!" He greets hurriedly. "Something ails Rowena. Can you help?" Seanathair motions Eomer to an armchair in the ward we'd just left and in seconds, I am settled in it and my grandfather approaches. The pain increases and I hiss, clutching my husband's forearm tightly.

"St-stomach hurts." I tell Seanathair through the waves of increasing agony. "It just...just came on me suddenly. I don't know what's wrong!" He nods and gently lays a hand on my stomach, mumbling those beautifully strange words under his breath. Then, the pain slowly lessens and then becomes only a minor annoyance, but easily manageable. I breath out in relief. "Thanks." Then, as if the use of magic had unlocked it, the memory of my dream last night becomes crystal clear. I set it aside, though, for the moment. What had just happened to me was _slightly_ more pressing. "What happened? One moment, I was fine, and then...it's like I just instantaneously got sick." Seanathair smiles knowingly and stands, patting my shoulder.

"Aye, that was most unfortunate. However, this sudden sickness was caused by the natural consequence of marriage." He informs us cryptically. I raise a brow.

"Meaning?" I ask, suddenly fearing I knew the answer. Thinking back, I've always felt a bit...off since the wedding night. Not always in a bad way, and the feeling dissipates around one or so in the afternoon. Also, I was due for a...cycle and it hadn't happened yet. My eyes widen in sudden realization.

Frick! I know what it means!

"There will be an Heir of Rohan before long. Congratulations, henig, and to your husband, as well." Seanathair replies, kissing my fringe before clasping Eomer's shoulder heartily. It seems we both have forgotten to breath, even more so when we're suddenly kissing passionately, elation in the created life within me spilling over for all to see.

" _Helle_ , brother. You got straight to business, didn't you?" Eowyn teases wryly. Eomer takes it fairly well, with both amusement, slight exasperation, and a dash of embarrassment as we break apart.

"I assure you, sweostor, this is merely a happy, unexpected embodiment of our love." My husband replies. I raise a brow.

"Please, someone, tell me what those Rohirric phrases mean. I'm starting to think you do it on purpose." I remark snidely, smirking. The siblings laugh.

"Glad to see you are on the mend, deorest. 'Helle' is a general curse meaning 'hell', and 'sweostor' simply means sister." Eomer explains patiently. "I had no intention of purposefully excluding you, Winnie. It is only that Rohirric is as part of us as our heart or mind." I nod.

"Okay. In that case, I have to learn it at some point. It's a neat language." I suddenly yawn. How am I tired? It hasn't been that long since I woke up! "Geez! I only woke up a few- -" another blasted yawn interrupts me, "few hours ago!" I shake my head to clear it of tiredness.

"Perhaps I should take Winnie to her cot." Eomer remarks, smiling. I playfully smack his arm.

"I'm _fine_ , ordugh!" I protest. "By the way, orudgh means 'dearest' in my land's language." I add. Eomer smiles lovingly at me.

"Mayhaps I should learn your tongue in return for teaching you Rohirric, deoerest." He then draws me gently into his lap. "Now, I must return you to our cot." I shake my head.

"No, no! I'm fine now…" But, just then, I am betrayed by another yawn. "Frick. I really am fine." Eomer nuzzles my neck as we stand.

"My love, it could not hurt to rest a little more, with the child you bear, could it?" I sigh in resignation. He could be stubborn on anything he really wanted. I'd never get him to change his mind.

"As long as Eowyn doesn't mind." I reply. The lady in question smiles.

"Of course not. You must take care of yourself, Winnie. I do not mind not talking to you for a few hours." I nod, yawning again.

"Then that's how long I'll rest. Shall we say...about one in the afternoon?" I ask. She and Eomer nod.

"Very well." They say, nearly in unison. I am then scooped up once more. I playfully struggle for a moment before calming.

"Eomer, you really don't have to carry me everywhere." He merely scoffs as we exit the room.

"While you carry our child and heir? I think not, deorest. I shall be your steed for the time being." I roll my eyes.

"I'd rather a gentleman to merely hold my hand as we walk." I reply. He smiles.

"If you are sure you are able to get to the cot." I sigh contentedly as we then walk hand in hand.

"If not, _then_ you can carry me. Deal?" He smiles and kisses my temple.

"Deal, my love." He replies, and within ten minutes, we arrive, only to find that our cot had Eothain sitting on it, bandages around his head, centering around one eye. He was also smiling cheekily at us, so I knew he was out of danger.

"Ah, the royal couple." He greets, sombering only a little at the grief he held for his King's loss.

"I understood this to be our cot, Eothain." Eomer muses, smiling. Eothain shrugs.

"Well, I like it. That, and you've been given a more...appropriate ward." I frown.

"Pardon?"

"Well, seeing as you two form the leadership of Rohan now...it was decided you should have more royal accommodations." I roll my eyes. Already, I was tired of the 'royal treatment', and it had scarcely begun. _Wonderful_.

"And I assume you are waiting to guide us?" I ask, wry smirk betraying my stern voice. Eothain shakes his head.

"Nay, not I." He then points behind us and I turn to see Faramir, his shoulder bandages plainly visible under his tunic.


	39. Insane Plans are Laid

**GOT IT UP FINALLY! Me and Not You 1001, SORRY I KEEP UPDATING BEFORE YOU CAN CATCH UP. I AM JUST TRYING TO STICK TO A (FAIRLY) CONSISTENT UPLOAD SCHEDULE. SORRY.**

 **ANYWAY, ONTO THE REVIEWS!**

 **Indigo575: Why, thank you! ;) I try to keep readers interested, but also take the time to do the story justice and make it the best I can. Glad to know you're enjoying it!**

 **Jo: I'm happy for them, too! ;)**

 **Emperor DeLacus: *throws more glitter and dances with you* I KNOW, RIGHT?! It's awesome! Here's another chapter for you!**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

I grin, torn between playfully reprimanding him for being out of bed, and hugging him in relief that he was strong enough already to be up and about. He sweeps with a subtle grimace into a bow.

"Oh, don't do that, Faramir!" I protest, eagerly helping him up. "I really don't want you to reopen your wound or anything." He chuckles.

"The healers say my wound is already twice as far along with the healing as it was only yesterday. I am fit for duty." I'd nearly forgotten; as Boromir and Denethor had died, Faramir was now Steward, but he'd soon be serving under Aragorn and I _knew_ that those two would get along right away.

"Oh, pish posh! I think you should have one last day of rest before running around like this." I protest playfully. Faramir laughs.

"Milady, I assure you, I am doing no running. Now, shall we?" He asks, motioning to the door. I nod.

"Oh, alright. If you insist." Eomer and I were then led to a separate room that was thrice as fancy and large than my room in Meduseld. Everything was pristine polished white marble, gleaming in the late morning light, with soft blue and silver sheets on the bed. I gaped around for a moment, unable to speak in my shock.

"I take it this room is to your liking?" Faramir asks wryly.

"Of course." I reply slowly after another moment of admiring. "You didn't have to do this, Faramir." I muse genuinely. "I was quite content with my cot." He waves my words aside gracefully, chuckling.

"It was not I who initiated this room change, milady." He says.

"Then who did?" I ask. Faramir's eyes light up in reverence and no small amount of an awe-struck wonder that bordered on childlike.

"My liege, Aragorn, son of Arathorn." I can't help but chuckle.

"So, you two have met." I muse. Faramir's smile is one of ecstasy and fulfillment, as if all he wanted in life was accomplished.

"Aye, I have. It was he who saved me from the Black Breath." I frown, sitting on the edge of the cot and motioning Faramir to sit in a nearby armchair. He does.

"'Black Breath'?" I ask. "What's that?" Faramir's expression darkens frightfully, pain and horror in his eyes replacing the wonder and reverence from before and I suddenly regret asking.

"It is the curse of the Nazgul, milady. It brings terror and a slow, fevered death." I frown. So...had my Ibuprofen not helped, after all? Or did it just bit cure him of the Black Breath? Faramir's eyes then lighten and a small smirk returns. "As I lay in its throes after you rescued me from the pyre that I saw him. My lord and King, striding out of the darkness and commanding me to awaken. I could not but obey his words. He is a remarkable man, to be sure." He murmurs, eyes still reverent and faraway. I smile.

"Yeah, he is. We share a bond like siblings, he and I. He is like an older brother, and I am like his little sister." I reply. Faramir smiles at me.

"I hope to form such a bond with him, in time, milady. He is as noble and fair as Boromir, but in Aragorn there is something more...regal and lordly in his bearing and presence. Men and others cannot help but follow him." I nod.

"Oh, yeah. When I met him, he, some of my other friends, and I were running across Rohan to rescue Merry and Pippin from Orcs. No one questioned his lead. It was impeccable, the way he tracked the creatures." I reminisce fondly. Then smile at Eomer, now seated beside me, though when exactly he had sat down was lost to me. I grab his hand. "That's also about the time I met Eomer." Faramir smirks.

"Oh?" I laugh.

"Oh, yeah! He was out with his men, looking for his cousin, when they stumbled upon my companions and I. At that point, I'd been running for nearly two days on end. And so, when we stopped to talk to Eomer and his men, I was ready to collapse from exhaustion. Eomer noticed and decided to take me to Edoras to recover while my companions were lent spare horses to aid their search. Unfortunately, Eomer was imprisoned for breaking the laws Saruman's puppet, Grima, had made about not harboring strangers and refusing to lend horses to anyone without the King's consent. Gandalf and my companions arrived in the next few days, however, and that situation was remedied." Faramir chuckled.

"And when did you begin your courtship?" He asked.

"Right after the Battle at Helm's Deep." I replied.

"And when was that?"

"About two weeks ago." Faramir gapes at us.

"And now you two are married?" I grin.

"Yep! We figured...with the impending battle here...why wait?" Faramir laughs.

"I see. Well, it is clear to all that you two are in love. I wish you both happiness." I smile.

"Thank you, Faramir. We actually have some good news." At his raised, genuinely curious brow, I grin wider. "We're expecting a child!" Faramir's eyes widen.

"That _is_ good news! The very best, in fact." I absently put a hand on my stomach, grinning ear to ear.

"Yeah, it is. Now, I do apologize, but my husband insists I need sleep, and as a good wife, I must acquiesce." Faramir nods graciously.

"Of course. I look forward to our next meeting." I smile.

"As do I." And with that, the new Steward of Gondor departed. Eomer watches him leave with an unreadable expression.

"He is an honourable man."

"He is." I then scowl at the memory of the man who had raised him. "His father on the other hand...he was honestly the worst man I've ever met!" Eomer's brow raises.

"Oh?"

" _Yes_!" I reply firmly. "He told Faramir to his face that he wished faramir had died instead of Boromir and then sent him to reclaim Osgiliath, knowing full well that his son would die following that order." Eomer gapes in shock. "And that's not all." I continue grimly. "He then, when he saw the aftermath of the ill-fated order- -Faramir near death from possibly poisoned arrows- - decided to burn himself and Faramir alive out of a sense of hopelessness." Eomer scowls darkly, fists clenched tightly.

"And you say he's gone?" I nod.

"Yes. He burned on the pyre just after we managed to rescue Faramir." Eomer's satisfied huff causes me to smile.

"Good." He growls. Then sighs and manages a smile. "Now, I shall leave you to your rest." He says, kissing my temple.

"Please come get me at about one o'clock or so. I'd really like to talk to Eowyn." He nods.

"Of course, deorest. As soon as the counsel of the captains Aragorn has called just outside the city has ended, I will retrieve you and we will continue our conversation with Eowyn."

=#=#=#=#=

I tossed and turned, but could not get anywhere near comfortable.

At least, until I laid out sprawled on my back. Only then could I get some semblance of relaxation and ability to consider sleep.

But it would not come. So I huff and get out of bed, heading out of the Houses of Healing. As I do so, though, something seems to alert everyone to my presence and heads dip and murmurs of 'Rowena Cwen' (something I assume meant 'queen) and 'Your Majesty' follow me. I smile and nod at everyone as I pass them by, feeling a bit odd at the attention. Soon enough, I am out in the afternoon air, the breeze cooling me pleasantly as I stroll toward the lower levels.

"And just where do you think you're going?" Comes Pippin's voice behind me. I whirl around and grin as he comes to hug me.

"Hey, Pip. I was just going to see how the counsel was going. I'm supposed to be napping, but I can't get any sleep." He frowns.

"Counsel?" I nod.

"Aragorn called a counsel of the captains to determine the next move to make. Eomer is there, and I want to hear what's going to happen." I reply. "Unfortunately, it's just outside the city." He nods, still frowning.

"Why would they hold it outside the city?" I shrug.

"Let's go find out, shall we?" He nods, taking my hand eagerly.

"Oh, yes! Come on!" I laugh and allow myself to be half-tugged along. Until I start to feel queasy and have to take my hand back, halting and breathing deeply to try and alleviate the feeling. "Rowena, what's wrong?!" Pppin asks, flustered. "D-did I tug you too hard? I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it!" On and on he went, bustling about me. Then, he noticed my bandages."Oh, no! What happened?" He squeaks. I can't help a laugh.

"An arrow. It's healing up nicely, though. That's not what made me stop." I reply, smirking. Pippin tilts his head in confusion.

"Then, what did?" I full on smile, hand on my stomach.

"Eomer and I married about a week or so ago. And now, I am expecting our child." Pippin's grin seemed to light up the entire street.

"Oh, Rowena! That's _wonderful_! Congratulations!" He cheers. I smile wider, as well.

"Thank you. The child will be born...let's see...it's April now, so...about January, I think." He grins.

"This is so wonderful! Eomer must be so happy!" I smile.

"He is, and I am, too, though the queasy feeling and slight nausea are not as fun as it sounds." I reply with a wink. Pip laughs.

"Let's get you to the father-to-be, then!" He cheers, taking my hand and guiding me at a more sedate, calm pace than before, and I had no more nausea attacks the way down the city. "This city is so massive, it's a miracle anyone can get around on their own, Rowena. How were you planning to get to the counsel unguided?" I shrug.

"I rode through the city during the battle, before our adventure with Denethor, so I felt I could remember the way well enough." He nods.

"Oh. I'd forgotten that." Then, his eyes seem to register something and he looks up into my eyes.

"A-are you- -are you and Eomer the rulers of Rohan now?" He asks, and I feel the light-hearted atmosphere choke and suffocate under the weight of responsibility settling quickly on my shoulders. I swallow.

"Yes, Pippin. Theoden had no other heir, and, as Eomer's wife, I now hold the title of 'queen'." He nods somberly.

"I'm sorry. I liked Theoden. He was a wonderful king and a great man." I smile through brimming tears I blink rapidly to get rid of.

"Yes. One of the best men I've met since coming here." Pippin sighs before continuing to lead me down the streets of Minas Tirith.

"Let's get you to your husband." He says resolutely. We continue on our way in a pretty comfortable silence, each of us left to our thoughts.

"So." I muse. "You're a Guard of the Citadel?" I ask, managing a watery smile. He chuckles shyly, nodding.

"Yes, Winnie. I...it seemed right, since Boromir, Denethor's son, was slain defending me and my cousin." I nod.

"I like it. That outfit looks good on you." I muse. He smiles.

"Thank you, Your Grace." He says teasingly. I playfully nudge his ribs with the hand over his shoulder.

"Oh, stop with that, kind sir!" I reply in the same tone. "Just 'Winnie' or 'Rowena' will do, thank you!" By now, we're nearing the last set of gates and we somber up a little, and I sigh heavily as I near the tent the counsel was clearly being held in. I swallow.

Who knew what I'd be walking into. Ah, well. Not knowing was worse. I needed to know what the plan was for our next move.

Everyone was startled by my entrance, but I acted as if I were merely late, smiling and mumbling a quick apology as I settle myself beside Eomer. There was no table in the tent, but that was fine.

"M-min leof...did we not agree you should rest?" Eomer asks, hand around my waist. I sigh.

"I tried to, Eomer. I just couldn't get to sleep." I reply. He sighs heavily.

"Very well."

"So...what's the plan?" I ask, looking from Seanathair to Aragorn to Halbarad to Legolas to Gimli to a pair of virtually identical raven-haired tall elven men, then finally to an unfamiliar man I didn't know. Seanathair's eyes are twinkling as he pats my shoulder.

"Henig, let us first introduce you. This is a counsel, after all, and there are certain procedures to these things." He turns then to the unfamiliar man, who seems to understand the nickname (actually, true name) Seanathair has given me and is confused by it. "Lord Imrahil, allow me to present my adopted granddaughter and Lady of Rohan, Rowena O'Neil. Rowena, meet the Prince of Dol Armoth." I feel flustered and awkward as I bob as neat and professional a curtsy as I can. This was a Prince, after all. You don't get to meet one _every_ day.

"Pl-pleasure to meet you, sir." I squeak. He smiles and moves to shake my hand, the light of realization in his eyes. He was a firm, but gentle grip. He then presses a quick, formal kiss to my knuckles before releasing my hand.

"Ah. The honor is mine, milady. 'Tis long since Rohan had a Lady to stand beside her Lord." I swallow.

"...Let's hope I can fill the role well, milord." I reply as diplomatically as possible. "I've only been a queen for...maybe two days now." Imrahil's eyes cloud with grief and genuine sorrow.

"I was much grieved at Lord Theoden's loss, Milady. He was a noble, just man to the end. You have Dol Armoth's condolences." I nod, swallowing a sudden lump in my throat.

"Yes, he was. Thank you." I reply thickly. I then shake myself subtly as Seanthair gestures to the two elves.

"And these twins are Elrohir and Elladin, sons of Lord Elrond of Imladris." I bob another curtsy.

"Pleasure." I say, sounding more confident now in the midst of all these royal and noble people. After all, I had to get used to it at _some_ point, right?

"And finally, I trust you have met Halbarad of the Dunedain Rangers, yes?" I nod.

"Yes, Seanathair. Shortly before we pressed on Gondor and he took the Paths of the Dead with Aragorn." I reply, nodding in greeting to the weathered Ranger, who smiles and nods back.

"It is good to see you well, milady. I had heard of your injury, and hoped to see you recover." I smile gratefully.

"Thank you. I feel much better now." I then tilt my head. "Can I ask what the plan is now?" I ask teasingly, and Seanathair laughs.

"Yes, henig. You may." He replies. "It is a very risky plan, born of near desperation." I frown.

"What is it?" I ask. Aragorn steps forward.

"Rowena, do you know of Mordor?" I roll my eyes.

"Yes. It's…" Realization dawns and I pale, taking a step back. "Wait...what about Mordor?" I prayed I was wrong, but Aragorn's expression did nothing to comfort me.

"We plan to march on the Black Gates." I blink. Surely, I'd heard that wrong, right?


	40. The Deep Breath Before the Plunge

**100 REVIEWS?! THANK YOU ALL** _ **SSSOOO**_ **MUCH! YOU GUYS HAVE** _ **NO**_ **IDEA HOW HAPPY THIS MAKES ME! XD SHOUT-OUT GOES TO Me and Not You 1001 FOR BEING SUPPORTIVE AND HAPPENING TO BE THE 100th REVIEWER! YAY!**

 **OH, AND SORRY FOR THIS BEING A LITTLE LATE, GUYS!**

 **Me and Not You 1001: Since you were the 100th reviewer, I am replying to your review first! ;) Anyway, glad you could figure out what those symptoms meant. Thought it'd be interesting to have her be revealed as pregnant right as the armies are leaving for the Black Gates. I can't wait for her to wait Arwen, either! It'll be a little while, though. First, we gotta get through the length of time it takes for the Men of the West to get to Mordor and back. And yes, Rowena will see Faramir and Eowyn interact and may or may not immediately start 'shipping' them. Though she'd probably not even try to explain what 'shipping' means to those two. They are an adorable couple, though.**

 **Guest: Thank you so much! Every review, no matter how long, makes my day!**

 **Jo: I don't mind a reminder of your love of my story every now and again. ;)**

 **ON TO THE STORY!**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

When no one contradicts Aragorn, I swallow. _Oh, boy._

"W-when are we leaving?" I ask. Aragorn sighs, his head dipping in some unreadable emotion.

"Milady…" Halbarad says, stepping forward when Aragorn doesn't speak. "The Black Gates are no place for a Queen, even one so brave as you." I glower at him.

"I'm going! I may not have a lot of ammunition for my gun left, but what I do have will help!" Eomer's hand on my shoulder startles me a little and I turn to see his expression. He seems torn.

"Min leof, much as I wish to allow you to come, I must insist you stay." I gulp.

"I...no!" I snap in sudden fury. "If you all are going on this insane march on Mordor, I have every right to go, too!" Eomer's eyes darken slightly, and his other hand grips my other shoulder. It brought on flashbacks to that day in Meduseld, when we'd had a similar conversation about where I was and was not going...and then I'd gotten proposed to.

"Deorest, you _cannot_ go! Rohan needs a leader, now more than ever! And...with our eardian- -our _child-_ -on it's way, I cannot allow you to risk your life! If anything were to happen- -if you fell in battle, when I allowed you to come, I would never forgive myself!" I swallow thickly, tears brimming. I hadn't thought of it like that. I'd only wanted to help my husband fight against the growing darkness.

"I'm sorry, Eomer. It's just...this is a _crazy_ plan, and I just wanted to help in any way possible." Eomer smiles, hand moving to grip mine comfortingly.

"Deorest, you being in Minas Tirith, along with so many others, provide reasons to fight, to make sure we succeed in our plans, so we may return to those we left behind." I blink back more tears and hug my husband.

"I just...I'm not going to ask you to stay, but... _please_ be careful?" I whimper, not caring in the slightest that we were in front of an audience.

"Of course, min leof. I will do my utmost to return to you as whole as I can." I sigh.

"Good." Gimli is gawking at us when I get myself together enough to move away from my husband.

"Lass...yer- -yer pregnant?!" He stammers. I can't help but laugh, despite a slight blush.

"Yes, Gimli." That was not the way I was going to reveal it, but… "I am expecting an Heir of Rohan around January."

"That is wonderful news, Mellon." Legolas says with a smile. "Congratulations." I grin back, hand on my stomach.

"Thank you! We weren't expected a child so soon, but…" I shrug, still grinning. "We'll take it."

"I should hope so, lassie." Gimli replies with false gruffness, clapping me on the lower back and nearly pitching me onto the floor. I grin. Despite the frankly horrible plan that was about to be put into action, I can't help but laugh along with my adopted family.

"Hey, Legolas?" I ask, suddenly remembering the weird nickname Legolas had given me.

"Yes?"

"Why did you call me a melon?" He laughs.

"Oh, that's simply the Elvin word for 'friend', Rowena." I nod.

"Oh. In gaelic- -my homeland's language- -friend is 'caraid'." Legolas nods.

"Interesting. Your language is strange, milady." I smile.

"Yeah." I then clear my throat, sombering as I recall what we had been talking about. "Anyway, how many people can we- -you all- -take to the Black Gates? I'd imagine not too many." There are several smothered groans and almost worried expressions all around the room, so I know I asked the wrong question.

"That seems to be the problem, Deorest." Emoer manages. "We're still working that out. You see, we want to leave as soon as possible, but then that means having to leave more men behind to recover. Considering how many are injured against how many we initially had in the fight...the numbers are not promising." I swallow.

"How many?"

"Approximately seven thousand." Eomer replies, head dipping. "It pales when compared to Mordor's forces." I frown.

"Then why go?"

"Because we need to give Frodo a distraction to get to Mount Doom undetected." Aragorn replies before Eomer could open his mouth. I raise a brow.

"And...we're sure he's in Mordor?" I ask. Aragorn sighs. Seanathair steps forward.

"He has passed from my sight, but I last glimpsed him approaching Cirith Ungol with Samwise and Smeagol." I frown in thought.

"That's near Mordor, right?"

"Yes." Seanathair replied gently, smiling at my easier recollection of Middle-Earth geography. This also brought up another point.

"I thought Frodo was alone."

"No, his good friend and gardener went with him." Seanathair replies. "A very pleasant young fellow named Samwise Gamgee."

"And who's Smeagol?" I ask, suddenly unsure somehow if I wanted an honest answer. "Who is that?" Aragorn and Seanathair shift uncomfortably.

"Someone I dearly hope you never have the misfortune of meeting, my friend." Aragorn finally replies, fists clenched at his sides. "Now, if we are through, gentlemen and lady, I believe our business is concluded." I swallowed thickly. Everyone just...accepted this plan? When they have _no_ idea it will even work?! I suddenly felt nauseous and ready to hurl what I'd eaten just a few hours ago. I force myself to take deep breaths and not puke. Eomer gently wraps his arms around my waist. I smile, but it betrays a bit of my inner turmoil at the idea of letting my husband go into Mordor to fight a battle that might not even help anything. If Frodo and his companions aren't in Mordor, making their way to Mount Doom...this is all for nothing. People will die, Sauron could rise again...and Arda as we know it would end.

Which, obviously, would be bad for everyone involved. And suddenly, I felt like puking again.

"Surely, this is the greatest jest in the history of Gondor!" Imrahil suddenly cried, laughing bitterly and without a trace of humor. No one argued. "That we should ride with some seven thousands, scarce as many as the vanguard of its army in the days of it's power, to assail the mountains and the impenetrable gate of the Black Land! So might a child threaten a mail-clad night with a bow of string and green willow!" He then sighs heavily, slumping in hopeless defeat, which did _nothing_ to ease my nausea. "If the Dark Lord knows so much as you say, Mithrandir, will he not rather smile than fear, and with his little finger crush us like a fly that tries to sting him?" Seanathair shakes his head subtly.

"No, he will try to trap the fly and take the sting." He says gravely. "And there are names among us that are worth more than a thousand mail-clad knights apiece. No, he will not smile." I took a breath as the unease I felt increased, bringing slight nausea with it.

"Neither shall we." Aragorn mumbles heavily. "If this be a jest, it is too bitter for laughter. Nay, it is the last move in a great jeopardy, and for one side or the other, it will bring the end of the game." Then, he unsheathed Anduril and held it up. It still struck me with awe, that sword. It was _marvelously_ crafted. No wonder Aragorn was so possessive of it. "You shall not be sheathed again until the last battle is fought." I crack a smirk, crossing my arms over my chest. I knew Aragorn meant it as a morale-booster or whatever, but it struck me as funny.

"So...you're gonna carry that thing around wherever you go? What about when you have to bathe or eat or sleep?" I ask snarkily. Aragorn returns a small smile.

"Rowena, you mistook me. The sword will not be sheathed, no, but it will not be in my hand the entire length of time before we leave." I nod.

"Alright. Whatever you wanna do." I reply, shrugging nonchalantly. Then sighed.

"Anyone want food? I am craving some cheddar right now." I was met with chuckles from my husband and friends, and confusion from the rest. I then heard one of the twins (I can't tell them apart. Elrohir, maybe?) lean over and ask something of his brother in another language. Aragorn was the one to reply in that same language, however, sounding impatient and irritated, leaving the pair gazing at him like '...please don't hurt me'. "What was that about?" I ask as we move out of the tent. Aragorn sighs.

"Elladan asked who you were that addresses a king with such familiar vernacular, and I told him we were acquainted and on good terms before I told you of my true identity and that I would not tolerate slights to your good name." I grin at him.

"Aww, Arargorn. I didn't know you cared." I tease playfully, nudging his shoulder. He smiles.

"Of course. After all, if I had not discovered you on the fields of Rohan, you would likely have perished." I nod.

"And I'd likely have never met Eomer." That thought terrified me. Alone on those fields...I have no idea what I'd do. I shiver subtly and force myself to remember that he was right beside me.

"Deorest, I might have spotted you in my search for my cousin." Eomer replies, drawing me to him, sensing my discomfort. "If I had stumbled upon a woman in your condition in the fields, I would have taken you with us. Or, at least, I'd like to think I would."

"I feel certain I would have persuaded you." I tease, smiling. Eomer returns the smile.

"I feel certain you would have, my love." He replies softly. I sigh heavily, all the weight things we'd just been discussing in the tent crashing down unexpectedly.

"Then, we might have had more time together." I mumble before I can stop myself.

"Deorest, we will not be forever separated when I ride to Mordor. This I feel in my very spirit, unshakable in its certainty." Eomer whispers in a soft, insistent voice. Tears prick at my eyes, but before I can reply, Merry and Pippin come scurrying up.

"Oi!" Merry cries. "I don't think you should be up yet, milady. The healers have been insisting _I_ stay in bed, and with _your_ injury- -" I cut him off there with a laugh and upraised hand.

"I'm fine, Merry. The arrow didn't hit anything vital and didn't go too deep. The only major concern was the poison, which is nearly all out of my system." Pippin frowns.

"Wait... _poison_ , Winnie?" I nod.

"Aye, poison." Eomer replies for me. "Rowena nearly didn't make it." Those words seemed to strike a very sensitive chord with the Hobbits and suddenly I am being tugged, prodded, and pulled along. I send a half-bemused, half-exasperated expression toward Eomer at the Hobbits' antics, but let them guide me.

"I can't even think of what on Arda possessed you to leave your bed, Rowena!" Merry scolds, not quite sounding as serious as I know he meant it, what with his tongue sticking out a little as he struggled to keep me moving, though I gave no resistance.

"A desire to know what was happening." Pippin frowns.

"You should have told me the truth of your injury, Rowena!" He tells me sternly. "I wouldn't have let you walk so far!" I laugh.

"I didn't lie to you, Pippin. It really does feel a lot better, and it really is healing nicely. Being an Istarindi does that." The Hobbits halt in confusion.

"Istarindi?" They ask, nearly in perfect unison. I chuckle.

"I think it means a descendant of a wizard." I then kneel down to be at their eye level, carefully avoiding flaring my injury. "I'll let you in on a secret, okay" The pair nod apprehensively, so I give them a reassuring smile. "I actually _am_ an Istarindi. I really _am_ Gandalf's granddaughter. I always have been." I confess, feeling something...lighten in my, as if some tensed muscle _finally_ uncoiled after years of being in constant use. "I just never knew until I returned here."

"'Returned'?"

"Apparently, when my mother died and I was subsequently stillborn, I was sent to the world I came from to be raised by my parents. Then, when Middle-Earth was in need of assistance, the Valar were able to return me to my home. I was the only candidate that fit the rules for world-crossing, apparently." The Hobbits then hug me as tightly as they dared.

"I'm glad you came back, Rowena! I'm so glad to have met you!" Pippin tells me genuinely. I laugh.

"Me, too, Pip."

"And who else should help you two keep out of mischief than myself?" Merry asks rhetorically.

"You?" Pippin protests playfully. "You twit, you're the _cause_ of the mischief!" He then tries to nudge his cousin, but ends up jostling me and I can't contain a hiss of pain. Instantly, Merry and Pippin were all apologies and worrying.

"I am fine, guys. Just...just give me a second to catch my breath." I reply. This only causing more fussing over me until from around a corner comes Eomer to the rescue, sweeping me into his strong, muscular arms. "My hero." I tease, smiling genuinely at him.

"Is it not my job as husband to rescue my lady wife from any and all dangers?" He replies in stride. I laugh.

"Indeed it is. And you do a marvelous job of it, but I was only in danger of being over-coddled." I point out. Eomer smiles.

"And now?" He asks, well aware of the Hobbits trailing awkwardly behind us.

"Now, I am perfectly content." I whisper in his ear. He smiles and hitches me a little higher.

"And I consider it my solemn duty to keep you that way." I purr a little in pleasure at the way those words thrilled me.

"I'll hold you to that." I murmur softly. "Soon as we're alone." I murmur even softer, overcome with desire and love for the man. Eomer's eyes light with the same desire fueling me. After all, we had not been _with_ one another since the wedding night, nigh on a week ago. A _**week**_ ago!

"Looking forward to that, if you are sure it's the right time." I nod.

"Oh, it's long overdue, believe me." I reply.

"You _are_ aware you have company present, correct?" Merry asks awkwardly, blushing scarlet. I smile.

"Sorry, Merry. We are aware, yes. We assumed you knew we were married." I point out gently. Merry kicked at a loose pebble as he walked.

"We are aware you're married, but...we haven't exactly heard much...flirting." I laugh.

"You two don't have girls back home, waiting eagerly for their dashing knights to return?" I ask teasingly. They halt in sync and shuffle.

"N-not really. Well, we both had girls that we- -but it never- -to that stage…" The poor Hobbit stuttered, trailing into silence and walking on in silent mortification. I suddenly felt bad for teasing them.

"Hey, that's cool. Sorry about that. I was just trying to make a joke." I explain. They shrug.

"It's alright." Pippin replies as we near the ward we were moved to. "We're just...new to the whole romance thing." I nod.

"Fair enough. Sorry." Merry shrugs.

"No need. It'll just take us a little bit to get used to open flirting. We don't want to ruin your mood, however." He says, conveniently right when we arrived at our room. "Well, I think this is where we bid you farewell." I steal a non-too-innocent glance at Eomer.

"I think that would be best." Eomer murmurs, the look in his eyes enough to nearly make me pounce him right here in the doorway, but we manage to hold it in until the Hobbits are well down the hall and the door is firmly shut.

But just barely.


	41. Last Day Before Departing for Mordor

**I AM** _ **SSSOOO**_ **SORRY THIS IS SO LATE! I WAS VOLUNTEERING AT AN** _ **AMAZING**_ **RETREAT FOR CHILDREN WITH CANCER CALLED 'BLUE SKIES' AND IF ANY WANTS TO KNOW MORE ABOUT IT, PM ME, KAY? I GOT A LOT OF STORIES ABOUT IT!**

 **FOR NOW, THOUGH, ONTO THE REVIEWS!**

 **Eragon: I am** _ **so**_ **sorry to hear about your foot. That is really unfortunate. I am** _ **really**_ **happy my nerdy little story helped, though! Your review was so sweet! I've seen many stories that seem written** _ **only**_ **so an OC and a canon character can 'do the do', and I hate reading smut, so I wouldn't ask it of my readers. I may hint at it (not very subtly, either), but I will** _ **never**_ **actually write the smut. Thanks for all your kind words and sorry this is so late! :(**

 **For some reason, romances in LotR always seem at least slightly rushed, at least to me. Glad you like Rowena and Eomer's relationship, though! 'Real' is about as good a compliment as this author can ask for! :)**

 **Me and Not You 1001: Yeah, yeah, I know! ;) I just...they** _ **are**_ **married, you know? And I mean, they haven't had their honeymoon yet, so cut them a little slack, kay? :) The sword comment was my initial reaction, then Aragorn's presponse was my thoughts afterwards, reasoning it out logically. Glad you enjoyed it as much as I did!**

 **Jo: Glad to hear it! XD**

 **Indigo575: Yes, it is indeed! (does happy dance with you) Whee! XD**

 **NOW, FOR THE STORY!**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!  
~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

When I woke the next morning, it was to experience much the same feelings as the morning after the wedding night. Only slightly less intense. I smile and absently run a hand over my husband's bare, well-muscled chest. It was incredible to me that nearly three weeks ago, I woke up to find myself in an entirely new situation, without any idea what to do or who anyone was.

Now, I had a husband, an important role to play in this world, and a child on the way. So much had changed so soon, it was a little overwhelming at times, but I was nothing if not a fast learner, so I was adjusting fast. Slowly, my husband's eyes open and he smiles softly at me, smoothing hair out of my face, gently tucking it behind my ears. I giggle and marvel at how soft and sweet his touch could be when he desired it, in spite of the largeness of his hands, the slight roughness of his skin.

"Good morning, Deorest." He greets in that downright alluring morning voice. I smile and kiss him.

"Good morning, Ordugh." Reality comes back slowly and we sigh in unison at the prospect of actually getting up and facing the day. It was not a cheery thought. "Do you have any plans for today?"

"That don't involve being with you?" Eomer replies, smiling, "Not at all. Did you have something in mind?" I shrug.

"I was kinda thinking I'd just eat breakfast, visit with the wounded for a bit, talk to Eowyn, and then work from there." I explain, reluctantly sitting up and popping my back. Eomer sits up, as well, hugging me from behind and resting his chin comfortably on my shoulder. I absently reach up and lean my head against his shoulder. There was nothing rushing us into speech, so Eomer took a moment to consider my words and properly wake up.

"That is as good a plan as any, my love." He says resignedly. "Though I must confess, I have no desire to do anything but lay in bed with you all day." I turn and cuddle up to him, ignoring the fact that we were both stark naked.

"Trust me, I want nothing more, myself. But, these are just a few things I think would be a really good idea, before you leave." Eomer nods.

"I think so as well." He says before kissing my fringe gently. I smile, even as I sigh and move to get dressed.

"First things first; I need to eat. I'm _hungry_!" Eomer smiles.

"I have heard that pregnant women are not usually hungry in the morning, regurgitating whatever they attempt to eat. I'm glad to see you are not one of those women." I smile.

"Me, too. My mom told me so many pregnancy stories, it almost makes me nervous about this pregnancy, Almost, but so far, I've avoided her fate." I reply lightly, half-sitting down at the foot of the bed and kissing my husband's temple, pulling my tunic over my head.

"I'm thinking we should get that breakfast presently, or we'll never leave this room." I sigh in resignation and agreement, standing back up and heading out with Eomer. I take his hand and we exchange smiles as we walk. "Is your hip hurting after..last night?" I shake my head. Not my hip specifically, no, but that _area_ was sore.

"No." He nods.

"I love you, so much." He said sincerely, nuzzling my neck and kissing my temple. I giggle and kiss him.

"I love you more." Eomer smiles.

"I doubt that." Eowyn greets us just then as we arrive at her room, and we wave eagerly and enter swiftly.

"Good morning, Rowena, Aaron." She says with a smile. Leaning in a little, she offers a sincere smile. "Aaron is Rohirric for 'brother'." I nod, smirking gratefully at her.

"Thanks."

"How are you feeling this morning, Sweoster?" She asks. I laugh.

"Great, really. A little sore, but that's to be expected from an arrow wound." Only women can understand the connection that allowed us to start giggling, both of us knowing the exact reason I was sore.

"I'm... " Eowyn broke off for more giggling. "I'm glad to hear that, Rowena." Her face then sobers. "I take it you've heard the unfortunate news." She muses, tucking hair behind her ear and I notice that the other arm has bandages from the back of the hand to the elbow and that she didn't use it. I then force a smile.

"I heard you defeated a Nazgul." I reply. Eowyn's face droops.

"And...what else?" I sigh, knowing what she wanted to hear.

"I also heard...about Theoden. That Eomer and I now rule Rohan." I mumble. Eomer gently takes my hand, quietly lending his strength. I squeeze back gratefully. "Eowyn, I am so sorry I wasn't there." I add. "If I had just been there... " Eowyn, shockingly, smiles gently, hand on my forearm.

"You likely would have died, as well." I, as gently as possible, tear my arm away.

"No! You don't know that! I could have helped! My gun might have been able to- -" Eowyn slaps a hand to my mouth, smirking.

"That's nonsense. Nothing kills a Ringwraith except rumors of blades designed specifically for that purpose. Evidently, Merry had one. The Nazgul seemed more hurt by his blow than mine." I peel the hand away, unable to help a smirk of my own.

"I heard it was the leader of the Nazgul, called the Witchking." Eowyn blushed slightly.

"I cared not for his title. Only that my uncle be avenged." I nod.

"Of course. It's still more impressive than shooting down one stupid Mumakil." I reply, pretending to be put out about it, but my smirk betrays me. Eowyn laughs.

"I also hear you saved Faramir, the son of the Steward's, life." I flush and chuckle nervously.

"We-well, I, ah…" I sigh. If it helped keep Eowyn and Eomer's mind of lighter things, I could tell them what happened, even if Eomer had heard it before. "So, I was leading the shieldmaidens into Minas Tirith, when I remember that Seanathair and Pippin were somewhere in the city, too, so I appointed Halwyn leader in my absence and left to find them. Then, I literally ran into Pippin- -or was it he ran into me?- -and he told me that Faramir's father had gone mad and that he was going to burn Faramir alive!" Eowyn gasps, her hand over her mouth.

"No!" She whispers breathily. I nod.

"Yes. He believed it was the only 'proper' and 'honorable' death for he and his left and that the war was hopeless. So anyway, I raced with Pippin to find Seanathair and off we went to save Faramir. Then, we were stopped by the Witchking, if you can believe it! Seanthair squared off against him and told me to go, so I did and found that a guard of the city named Beregond was trying to stop the whole thing, but couldn't get inside the room Denethor- -Faramir's dad- -was in." I then shrug. "So I shot at the doorpost to get their attention and went in." Eowyn nods, eyes wide and attentive.

"What then?" I smile.

"Then, I pointed the gun at the guards inside and ordered them to move aside. They were about to when Denethor insulted me. I then came forward and demanded he get away from Faramir and the pyre that instant. Of course, that only made him mad and he ordered the men to grab me, but just as I was seized, Seanathair bursts in and essentially repeats what I had said to Denethor, only this time, it bore more weight. Denethor _still_ didn't move, however. He was just Claoidhte- -pissed off- -and drew out a Palantir, of all things! He told Granddad that he had seen the true outcome of the war and threw the torch onto the wood."

"Surely you jest!" Eowyn squeaks, hand over her mouth again. I shake my head.

"Wish I was, but I'm telling the truth. Of course, we were about to panic. Seanathair then rides over and smacks Denethor off the pyre and Pippin then leaps up and drags Faramir off, patting out the tiny bit of his clothes that caught fire. I tried to catch them, but we all ended up in a pile on the ground. From there, Denethor got up, saw us patting Faramir, and thought we were hurting him or something. I tackled him to keep him away from Faramir and we wrestled for a while, and let me tell you; his punches _hurt_! Anyway, Shadowfax and grandad ride over and kick Denethor back on the pyre. He burned." I conclude, glaring at nothing sourly as the memories came back. I shake myself and smile. "I then got him to the House of Healing and he's been recovering ever since." The siblings look at me strange for a long moment.

"...You do not give yourself enough credit, Deorest." Eomer finally says. "That is among the noblest acts to come out of this dark and dreary war." I swallow.

"I just did what any sane person would do. Faramir didn't deserve to die like that. I'm just glad Beregond agreed. All those guards in the room would have practically guaranteed Denethor carry out his plan." I reply.

"That may be, but if you had not stalled Denethor even further, Gandalf would have arrived too late to intervene." Eowyn points out. I blink.

"I...I hadn't thought about it like that." I mumble.

"You are a naturally modest person, my love." Eomer replies, smiling with a loving pride I had not yet seen on his face. "I wish you would realize how much good you are accomplishing." I sigh.

"I try to, but...words just tumble out and then I've downplayed myself." I reply, then shrug. "It's a habit." Eomer nuzzles my temple.

"Let us work on that, then, my love." I nod.

"Sure thing." I then crack a smile. "Now, how about that breakfast? Telling stories whips up a _major_ appetite." We laugh and head down the hall, and I suddenly spot Faramir in the hall. "Oh, Faramir! Hey!" I call, waving. He smiles and comes over.

"Good morrow to you, milady." He greets, smiling and bowing yet again. I roll my eyes.

"I told you you don't have to do that."

"It is merely etiquette, Your Grace." I snicker a little at the over-dramatic tone he uses for the title.

"Well, if you can find us some food and help us eat it, I may just be able to forgive you." I tell him, winking. Faramir grins.

"Immediately. Right this way." Is it just me, or does Eowyn look a little red in the cheeks?

Just me? Figures. Regardless, we head down the hall and find a courtyard that houses an exquisite garden. I take in a sharp breath of pleasure at the sight.

"Oh, Faramir, this is perfect!" I exclaim, clapping happily. "We should have a picnic!"

=#=#=#=#=

Breakfast (actually, brunch; it's about noon) was fairly simple; delicious deviled eggs- -or just Middle-Earth's equivalent- -and hot buttered toast with a simple roast chicken. I told the story of the Food Fight of '99, in which my grandfather thought it would go unpunished to smear the filling- -once we were done with it- -onto my nose. Things quickly escalated and to this day, I'd swear the place _still_ smells of egg filling. It was one of my fondest memories of my grandfather.

Of course, I overheard that night that he had liver cancer, but that day had been so much fun...while it lasted. I left out the cancer and just kept to the good stuff.

In turn, Eomer and Eowyn told me of the time Eowyn dropped a container of oats on Eomer's toes as she tried to pass it to him about five years ago. He'd hopped around for at least five minutes, nearly sobbing in pain and holding his foot.

"I'd swear i can still feel the pain sometimes." He adds, smirking. I can't help laughing. The Eomer I knew was not unlike Spock at times, appearing almost frigid and emotionless to those who didn't truly know him. However, Eowyn and I knew that he felt things just as keenly as anybody, if not more than others. He was far better than a lot of people at concealing it. He was more like Bones that way. So, to hear of him acting almost childish was too much.

We exchanged a few more stories (I told of the time I'd crashed into my brother and broke my nose) before we decided to go as a group and visit with the wounded.

We were greeted with 'Your Majesty's and 'My liege's, but we quickly dissuaded that, smiling and telling everyone to merely address by our names.

"You are quite the unusual queen, my dear." Said a voice behind me. Whirling, I see my grandfather, and all but leap into his arms.

"It's so good to see you, granddad!" I greet, squeezing him before letting go, smiling as Seanathair chuckles.

"As it is to see you, henig." He looks out to the ward and his face falls just a little. "Say, would you mind stepping in to the hall with me for just a moment? I'd like to be able to properly hear and talk to you." I nod, a little puzzled. I turn and see Eomer.

"Hun, I'll be back in just a sec. I need to talk to Seanathair for a minute." He nods, shooing me with his hands and a small grin. He was back in 'Bones' mode, but I liked it. I take Seanathair's hand and take him into the hall. "What was it you wanted to talk about?" I ask.

"I hear from two reliable sources that you have somehow discovered even more about your origins than I did." I shyly tuck at my hair.

"Well, uh, yeah...I just…" I then decide to just tell him and see what happens. "I had a dream where I met Iluvatar and he told me about it." I mumble. Seanathair's eyebrows nearly disappear in his white hair.

"Truly?" I nod. He then frowns in thought. "...I suppose that makes sense. After all, the closer the relation in both worlds, the more likely you are to succeed in going between worlds. The portal system is so fickle, any advantage can assure success." I nod.

"He was so nice. Looked a bit like you." Seanathair smiles.

"Everyone sees him in their own way. No one knows what he truly looks like, henig."

"Cool!" I reply, smiling. "I was so happy to learn we were _actually_ \- -" I was then hugged fiercely.

"I missed you, henig. When...when Gilbren did not make it and you perished, as well, it was as if the world fell about me. I secluded myself for at least ten years before I dared come and face the world again." I hug him back.

"I'm so sorry. I- -"

"Henig, it was not your doing. It was what the Weaver decreed." I frown.

"The 'Weaver'?" I ask.

"Yes, Vaire, the Weaver of Time. It is she that writes our stories, both collective and individual." Seanathair replies. I nod.

"I hope she doesn't decide to kill you all in Mordor." I mumble before I can stop myself. Seanathair smiles.

"I do not think she would, but we shall see."

=#=#=#=#=

All too soon, evening is here. We'd spent a solid few hours with the wounded and I discovered that I was growing increasingly famous for saving Faramir's life. I'd tell them Pippin had a more direct hand than I did, but eventually got tired of protesting and accepted the praise and fame with as much grace and modesty as I could. It was sweet and borne of genuine affection and respect from my new...subjects (wow, is that so weird to even think about), so that helped, too.

All in all, it was a genuinely weird experience, being a Queen, but not an altogether unpleasant one.


	42. Sending Him to War

**HEY, Y'ALL! I HAVE ONE QUICK ANNOUNCEMENT BEFORE REVIEWS AND THE STORY: I HAVE A 'ALTERNATE SCENES' STORY FEATURING A SCENARIO WHERE ROWENA JOINS THE FELLOWSHIP RIGHT AFTER LOTHLORIEN. AND AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE STORY IS IN THE WORKS. PLEASE CHECK IT OUT. IT'S TITLED 'LIGHTNING'S CHILD ALTERNATE SCENES' CUS I HAD NO OTHER TITLE IDEAS. ANYWAY, REVIEWS!**

 **Jo: Squealing right with you, friend! ;)**

 **Me and Not You 1001: Glad you liked it. Figured Gandalf would say something like that sooner or later, and nothing like having your life threatened to get info out of people, right? So I let Gandy wait til Rowena got hit with an arrow before finally spilling his beans, so to speak. Not to nit-pick, but they just told stories, not read them. ;) Rowena is slow to adjust, but it's** _ **such**_ **a big change for her, it'll take some time. And no, not that blush was** _ **not**_ **imagined! XD**

 **Emperor DeLacus: Glad to hear from you again! You're completely fine, friend.**

 **...Eomer blushing? Haha, it** _ **is**_ **adorable, but I can't really remember when that was! XD Sorry.**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

It was sometime late in the night when I hear it.

Moaning and groaning, coming from Eomer. I come awake to see him shifting on the bed as if he were running, perhaps, or searching. Instantly, I sit up and try calling Eomer's name. No measureable response, so I shake his shoulders, calling his name as I do so. No luck. In fact, if anything, my husband seems even more distressed in his subconscious world. I curse and am forced to pin him down. This turns out to be the _worst_ thing I'd done.

He thrashes with a desperate strength and I am thrown straight over my side of the bed and onto the floor, grabbing the comforter as I do so. Giving a cry of pain as I land on my hip and shoulder, the comforter tangles my limbs and I wriggle to get free and continue helping Eomer when suddenly, I am hauled up onto the bed, comforter and all, and straddled by a half-awake and vengeful Eomer. He even grabs my neck, thank God not squeezing too hard.

"Honey, it's me! It's Rowena!" I wheeze, prying at his fingers, but they were like iron. Then, as suddenly as they'd been clamped, the fingers released me and I cough.

"R-Rowena?" Eomer whimpers. "Oh, Bema, no! Deorest, I- -I am _so_ sorry!" I shake my head, even as Eomer sobs and hugs me to him

"No, I was stupid and tried to pin you down. I'm the one who's sorry, hun."

"Rowena, I could have hurt you- -or our child!" I smile, leaning my forehead on his and refusing to let him lean away.

"But you didn't. You realized your mistake and stopped all on your own. I'm fine, so is our kid. What was it your dreamed about?" Eomer takes a long time to reply, merely holding me to him and breathing, which I didn't doubt was a coping mechanism for him, so I let him speak when he was ready.

"I dreamt that the Ring returned to it's master and the world fell to a second darkness, consuming you and our child before my very eyes, one of Sauron's lieutenants...having his way with you, claiming you as the spoils of war, while I could do nothing." I can't believe what I am hearing and hug him tighter.

"Eomer, my uncle is crazy about self-defense, and he trained me for a year or two. I'd be able to get away from any man who dares to _think_ about making a move on me. I promise." Eomer breaks then, sobbing into my shoulder and we just sit there. Then comes a brilliant idea; singing. At the very least, it would distract Eomer, comforting him at best, so I see no downsides. I decide on 'Sleepsong' by Secret Garden. It was a great song, and it will help Eomer, I hope. As I sing, Eomer seems shocked at first, but then, slowly, he comes to lose the tension and anxiety he'd been feeling. " _May there always be angels, to watch over you. To guard you each step of the way, to guard you and keep you safe from all harm..._ " The song carried on and by it's end, Eomer had completely relaxed, even lying down and wrapping his arms loosely around my waist. I smile and stroke his hair until I myself fall asleep.

=#=#=#=#=

The next morning, I find that Eomer is gone and I leap out of bed, scrambling to put day clothes on (I'd worn one of Eomer's shirts to bed last night; somehow, it felt wrong to spend our last night together- -at least for a while- - _together_ ) and exit, walking down the hall to hear his voice and that of Eowyn from her ward. I sigh in relief and enter the room.

"Cheap tactic, milord; stealing away from yer wife to swipe all the breakfast before she can have any." I tease, sitting on the foot of the bed and reaching for a small loaf of bread to spread some butter on.

"Nay, milady. I simply wanted you to rest. I knew you'd be along presently; I've not been awake an hour yet." I nod.

"Good. Now, I'm starving!" I cry and take a large bite. Eowyn laughs.

"Such an unsightly queen you're turning out to be, Rowena!" She teases fondly, playfully smacking my shoulder. I swallow the bread and laugh.

"If _I_ am unsightly, what does that make _you_?" I retort. Eowyn gasps.

"Oh, _dear_! Whatever will we do with her, aaron?" She asks teasingly, smiling all the time. Eomer smiles, too.

"I find it best to simply leave her be and enjoy the show." He says in a stage-whisper.

"I _am_ right here, you know!" I protest playfully. Just before either sibling could possibly reply, I hear a knock on the door.

"Enter." Eomer calls, frowning. Eothain enters, looking weary and like he'd rather be anywhere else, with a fresh, barely scabbed over scar barely missing his eye.

"I am sincerely sorry, miladies and milord, but...it is time, Eomer." My husband stands, jaw set grimly. He nods and dismisses Eothain. I sigh heavily.

"Well...I'm just gonna go help Eomer get his armor on, so…" I stand. "I'll talk to you later." Eowyn gives me a smile.

"I'll see you then." She replies. Together, Eomer and I walk back to our ward, neither of us needing to say anything. We got back to our room and the reluctant but resigned look Eomer gives his armor is enough to make me tear up, but I blink them back. I had to be strong for him right now. It didn't matter how I felt at the moment. Then, I suddenly had an urge to sing 'Safe and Sound' by Taylor Swift and the Civil Wars as I begin to assist my husband into his armor. It was easier and more self-explanatory than I initially thought. Eomer's murmured instructions helped a great deal, too.

" _I remember tears streaming down your face, when you said you'd never let me go. I remember you said 'don't leave me here alone'. But all that's dead and gone and past ton-ah-ah-ah-ah-ight._ " It was with this line that I buckled on his greaves and gauntlets over his arms. I then moved to his legs, continuing to sing. " _Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. We'll be alright...no one can hurt you now. Come morning light...you and I will be safe and s-ah-ah-ah-ound...s-ah-ah-ah-ah-ound._ " I swallow thickly and have to force myself not to tear up as Eomer hugs me tightly to him. I gently rock him for a moment before slowly drawing away, kissing his forehead before standing to grab his breastplate. " _Don't you dare look out your window; darling, everything's on fire. The war outside our door keeps raging ah-ahn. Hold on to this lullaby, even when music's go-ah-ah-ah-one. Go-ah-ah-ah-ah-one…_ " Now, all that was left was to sheath his sword, buckle the back-end of the sheath to his belt, and then thread it all through a frog in the belt. I did this as I sang the chorus once more, then did the vocalizing. It felt a little odd without music, but then I sang the chorus again, and felt better. Then, Eomer grasped me to him and kissed me soundly for a long moment. We then break apart, just holding each other.

"Treowlufu" He breaths. I didn't need a translation; it was already loud and clear, somehow. He'd told me he loved me in his own tongue.

"Tha barrachd gaol agam ort." I reply, smiling. "I love you more, honey." I translate. I then swallow. "Now, I think Eothain will be waiting. We'd better go." I whisper. We lean our foreheads together for a drawn out moment. Then, finally, we leave the ward, hand in hand. Slowly, we walk down to where everyone was gathering. There was not a lot of people ready to leave just yet, some couples still kissing and hugging. I understood, but...for Eomer and I, we knew how the other felt. There was no need for such intimate displays of affection. Everyone knew we were in love, so why flaunt it at every opportunity?

=#=#=#=#=

In all, it took at least half an hour to get everyone together. And even then, there were more goodbyes to say, more kisses to witness and in general people not wanting to leave and not wanting others to leave.

So, it ended up being a solid hour before the riders were all mounted and prepped to ride out. I strode up to Firefoot, stroking the horse's nose fondly as I locked eyes with Eomer.

"Kill a lot of Orcs for me." I tell him, smirking with more confidence than I truly felt. He smiles back.

"I will endeavour to do so." He then leans down unexpectedly and kisses me passionately. I respond eagerly, drinking in the taste and feel of him, memorizing it while I had the chance so I could revisit this moment later. Then, it's over and Eomer sits straight and proud in his saddle. I pat his thigh.

"Good luck." He puts his hand on mine as a chorus of trumpets herald the call to move out.

"I will return." And with that...they rode off. To Mordor and whatever awaited them there. I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to see Eowyn. She is barely managing to hold her tears back and it takes a second to realize I'm in her exact shoes. I suddenly pull her into a hug, careful of her slinged arm. We just hold each other, not knowing what else even could be said as we break apart and slowly make our way to a higher point we can watch the column from.

"Do you believe there is any hope for them?" Eowyn asks forlornly. I look at her. Her eyes are somber, locked onto the column as if scared they'd disappear if she were to look away. I sigh, swallowing hard as I think of what to say.

"...I...want to believe there is. I have to hold to that hope, but without knowing what's waiting for them, what's going to happen...it's impossible to tell." I reply honestly. Eowyn seems to appreciate my honesty.

"Thank you. Everyone forces themselves to be cheery and confident about this idiotic plan...it's nice to see someone honest for once." I nod.

"Knew softening the blow would not do any good. I won't give up hope til they bring his dead body back to me." I reply, gritting my teeth in determination. Eowyn nods.

"Nor shall I." With those words, a pact was made, a promise to uphold each other and keep up hope, no matter what, until such time as they were presented with irrefutable proof that the man they loved was gone, that they'd failed.

Now there was just the simple matter of executing that promise.

"...They're coming back, aren't they?" Merry whispers as he comes to stand close to us, probably not even truly knowing he was asking it out loud. I put a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah." I assure him without solid evidence. I'd _tried_ to remember what happened in the story, but I just...couldn't. I knew why; if I did remember and told someone, it could drastically change what happens next, probably dooming the mission to destroy Sauron. It was better this way, I knew...but it _still_ sucks! I then wrap my arm around his shoulders. "If he dies out there, I'll kill him." I add. Merry chuckles.

"Thanks, Winnie." I smile.

"Anytime." We then watch as the column of men and dust fades all too slowly and yet all too quickly from view. It's then that a thought occurs to me. "...Now what?" I whisper, having absolutely _no_ clue what I was doing or how I was supposed to handle running an entire people on my own. I sigh heavily and turn away, leading Merry back into the House of Healing for a checkup before dinner.

=#=#=#=#=

Dinner was a subdued affair. Nobody felt like talking since we all knew what we'd talk about. And no one felt up to discussing _that_ more. Without more information, the best we could hope to do was speculate and pray. Pray the ones we knew and loved and cared for made it back and that they were successful.

Needless to say, we were a _little_ short on conversation that night. So it ended quickly and we all retired to our bedrooms, and I know I personally simply got changed and flopped onto the bed. Pulling the covers up did little to change anything, so I curled into a ball and tried to picture Eomer's muscled, strong bare arms wrapping me in a warm, safe, comforting embrace. It only helps so much, but it's enough to make me relax and doze off for a bit.

=#=#=#=#=

Dozing off instead of sleeping through the night was _not_ conducive to being productive the following morning.

I literally dragged my feet into the unofficial dining area as the toast, meats, and cheeses were being set out for the patients in the House of Healing.

"Are you well, Rowena?" Eowyn asks, helping me into the seat a little unnecessarily. I sigh.

"I'll be fine. I just...didn't sleep well last night." I explain. She nods empathetically.

"I did not, either. 'Tis the nature of our circumstances, I fear." I nod.

"Well, enough about me. How's your arm?" I ask.

"It is stiff, but the wounds are closing well, the healers say." She replies.

I smile. "That's good to hear." She smiles back, absently picking at her bandages.

"Thank you." I sigh.

"I wish there was coffee in Middle-Earth." I mumble absently, letting my eyes close as I put my head on the table.

"What is coffee?" Eowyn asks. I sit up and chuckle.

"Well, it's a drink made from roasted beans. It gives you energy and helps you get through days like this." I explain. Eowyn sighs wistfully.

"That sounds like a wonderful drink." I laugh.

"It is. The only downside is that once your body is used to it, you start getting headaches if you don't have it." Eowyn laughs along with me.

"That is hardly a downside if you are dependent on it." I high-five her.

"That's my girl!" I cheer. She chuckles.

"You are truly a remarkable woman, Rowena." I smile.

"Thank you." From behind, a pair of arms encircle me.

"Why didn't you tell me you and Eomer were already expecting a bairn?" It's Halwyn. I beam at her.

"I hadn't seen you yet. How are you?" I ask. Halwyn then comes around and her forearm is encircled in bandages, much like Eowyn's. That, and her forehead was wrapped. All in all, not bad for how intense and involved the Battle of Pelennor Fields was.

"Well, my arm is stiff, but my head finally stopped pounding, so I can praise Bema for that." I smile.  
"Wonderful." She nods, then her face sobers a little.

"'Tis terrible, what happened to Theoden." She mumbles, looking at the table and picking at her dress. I sigh heavily.

"Yeah. It really is. Worst part is that I was in Minas Tirith." I retort, clenching my fist in sudden self-loathing. "I should have been there for him, orders or no orders." Halwyn and Eowyn are quick to shoot me down, however.

"Rowena, you would surely have perished! And he sent you into the city to protect you. He knew how much you wanted to fight, but also wanted to keep you safe. He kept both goals in mind assigning you to the city." Halwyn consoles.

"Precisely. He knew how much you meant to all of the Rohirrim already, and to Eomer. If we were to lose you...I honestly fear the consequences." This, however, does nothing to help. It seems I can no longer control myself and burst into tears.

"Yo-you guys, I'm just _one_ woman! I can't do anything special, I don't even know what I'm doing, like, _all_ the time, and…" I trail off, my throat constricting and cutting off whatever I'm about to say.

"And you are my marriage sister." Eowyn says gently, drawing me in for a hug. "And that makes you an invaluable addition to my family." I blink back more tears and pull myself together a little.

"I would say the same, but you didn't marry my brother." Halwyn teases. "I do think of you as a sister, however." I laugh and playfully smack her shoulder.

"Oh, stop."

"I'm serious!" She replies in mock indignance, rubbing her arm 'ruefully'. I hug them to me.

"I love you two."

"And we love you, Rowena." Eowyn replies. We stay there til I get myself together enough to be convinced to pay a visit to the healers for a little something to let me sleep.


	43. Waiting For Him to Return

**HEY, Y'ALL! SO.**

 **I AM A HORRIBLE AUTHOR THAT KINDA LOST A BIT OF INSPIRATION FOR THIS STORY TIL I ASKED MaNY, AND THEY GAVE ME A FEW IDEAS AND AWAY I WENT! YAY! SHOUT OUT TO YOU, LOVE! *BLOWS KISSES* YOU DAH BEST! NOW, REVIEWS! WOW! THESE WERE SO LOVELY TO READ! THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!**

 **Forest20Warrior: Hello! Welcome to the 'Lightning's Child' family, friend! I am really happy you like my story and think I'm a great writer. It seriously makes my day!**

 **Emporer Delacus: It's like the saying goes; parting is such sweet, sweet sorrow. In this case, it's just sorrow for poor Winnie and Eomer. Their interactions are really fun to write and I was genuinely sad writing the farewell parts, particularly when Rowena serenades her husband as she helps him with his armor. Your comments on 'Rowmer' (my little name for the power couple of Rohan) made my day! It was so nice to hear that! I don't even care if you mentioned it before. It makes my day, no matter how many times you say it.**

 **(peeks back at review in question) Oh, it** _ **does**_ **say 'Eowyn', not 'Eomer'. Whoops. XD**

 **Me and Not You 1001: Yeah, that helped get the juices flowing, and now I've got my inspiration back! Yay! Thanks for the tips and suggestions! They really helped! And yes, those talks are coming! ;P**

 **IF** _ **ANYONE**_ **ELSE HAS SUGGESTIONS OR REQUESTS, FEEL FREE TO SHOUT 'EM OUT IN A REVIEW, KAY?**

 **Jo: Thank you so much!**

 **Indigo575: Thank you! I try to convey feelings and emotions, rather than just tell you what's happening. Glad you think I succeeded! And I** _ **love**_ **the 'milady' nickname! Thanks!**

 **Hollarious696: Thank you for the kind words about my story! You are** _ **far**_ **from rude or nasty, friend. You are merely curious and, I mean, aren't we all?**

 **I made Rowena from Inverness because I had taken a 'British History' class and fell in love with the U.K and all the sights and wonders therein. So, at that point, I was just starting toying with the idea for this story, so I immediately wanted to use that new knowledge in a new story. As for the gun, my uncle is big on self-defense and that bled into the story, as well. I've actually learned via a lovely reviewer about the difficulties of purchasing a glock in Scotland and we determined that Rowena and her uncle figured it out and she could keep the glock without a problem because she uses squirrels and rabbits as target practice/hunting, which is a legitimate reason for a gun in Scotland.**

 **THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR PATIENCE, NOW ONTO THE STORY!**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

"You _what_?" Halwyn demands once I've gotten a draught that gave me a boost of energy and paused my tale to drink it. I smile.

"I pulled Faramir from a pyre and then had to tackle Denethor to keep him from killing his son." I reply evenly, sipping water I'd requested. Halwyn's jaw drops.

"Oh, Bema! Must have been pretty intense." She muses. I shrug.

"It was over quickly. There was little time to even feel overwhelmed by everything, really." I reply. She shakes her head.

"You really are amazing." She whispers. I roll my eyes.

"I just didn't want Faramir to die so horribly and so needlessly. That's it." Halwyn smiles.

"And so modest. Quite the Queen, indeed." She teases. I sigh fondly, shaking my head.

"I'm fairly normal where I come from, really."

"Doesn't mean you're the same in Arda." Comes a new voice. I turn to see a tanned, black-haired beauty of a woman. "I apologize for not introducing myself, milady." She says, curtsying neatly. I smile and wave her up.

"Oh, you don't have to do that, really." I tell her and she stands, smiling.

"Another aspect of your reign that would be considered atypical, milady." She says, sitting gracefully beside me. "But, first things first, let me introduce myself; I am Princess Lothiriel of Dol Armoth." I nod my head in return of her greeting.

"I am Queen Rowena of Rohan."

"I knew you by reputation only; it is good to know your name to match." I grin, already feeling comfortable with this woman.

"Unfortunately, milady, I did not know your reputation before our meeting, or your name." I move into a bow and have to restrain the laughter rising. "I beg your pardon." Lothiriel laughs.

"Nothing to pardon, Your Majesty." She replies, chuckling behind her hand. "You are, quite frankly, a breath of fresh air in the midst of the more...Gondorian women I've interacted with during my stay here." I nod, smiling.

"Gondorian women must be truly dreadful if I am a step up." I reply. Lothiriel shakes her head.

"You are too modest, Queen Rowena." I shrug.

"It's one of my flaws." She takes my hand, smiling gently at me.

"Well, I'll simply keep assuring you of your true worth, Rowena. Until you believe it." She retorts. I smile.

"Thank you."

=#=#=#=#=

"It's unbelievable, really." I blink.

"What's unbelievable?" I ask. One of the main healers, Ioreth, chuckles as she examines my hip.

"The way your hip has healed. Already, it is as if you hardly injured at all." I smile.

"Being an Istarindi does that." I reply. Ioreth frowns.

"An Isterindi?" I nod.

"Yes. I am Gandalf's granddaughter." I explain. She nods, eyes wide in reverence.  
"Truly?"

"Yep! It's a little confusing, but I was stillborn in Arda, my soul then sent over to the world I came from to live and be raised in, then returned here when I was needed." Ioreth exhales in wonder, shaking her head in amazement.

"Clearly, the Valar are very interested in you." She muses. She then stands and pours a cup of steaming liquid from a pot on a warming slab near a fire. She presents it to me with a smile. I raise a brow, smiling in return.

"What's this?" I ask, sniffing it. "Mint tea?" I press. She shakes her head.

"Nay, 'tis a chasteberry tea, for the little one." I choke and nearly spit out the mouthful I'd just taken.

"Pardon?" I squeak around a few coughs. Ioreth laughs. "How'd you even know about that?" I continue, calming and sipping at it to find it was a pleasant tea.

"Things known to few, you'll find, milady, are rarely that way for long in Minas Tirith." She replies. I flush.

"I didn't really want to go shouting it out to the whole of Minas Tirith." I protest weakly, gulping at the tea to hide my blushing cheeks. I was proud of the pregnancy, happy in the life I'd get to meet in nine months, yes, but...I don't doubt most folk here wouldn't see it that way. They'd draw the conclusion that we weren't married, probably, and that the kid was illegitimate.

Which it isn't.

Ioreth smiles.

"I see. Drink up." Is all she says. I gulp and set the cup down.

"Um...you do know that Eomer and I...we're married, right?" I ask, blushing horribly and praying this felt as awkward to her as it did to me. Ioreth shrugs.

"I make no judgements on your actions, milady." I groan. "But yes." She continues, smirking in amusement. "I do know you're married." I nod.

"Thanks. Would you mind- -"

"I'll make sure any doubters are corrected, Majesty." She interjects smoothly. I roll my eyes.

"No need for that 'Majesty' nonsense." I reply. "But thank you." She nods.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I must attend to other patients." I nod.

"By all means. I'm not gonna stop you."

=#=#=#=#=

That night, I found myself unable to sleep once again.

I tried for what felt like hours before I finally give up, grabbing the comforter and tip-toeing out to the open courtyard. There, I spread my blanket and lay on it, gazing at the stars and picturing the few times Eomer and I would do this on our ride to Gondor and Helm's Deep. It was an innocent pastime, and one I couldn't find much joy in now. Except in memory of Eomer's smile and warmth and love. That alone gets me relaxed enough for my eyelids to start drooping and next thing I know I am asleep.

=#=#=#=#=

"Milady?!" Came Faramir's concerned voice, and I am dimly aware that he is shaking me. I come awake to see that I am still in the courtyard, and that I had somehow wrapped myself up in the comforter. I blink blearily and groan, sitting up.

"Morning." I muse, yawning and stretching out my sore muscles. Sleeping on the ground was _not_ a good idea.

"Rowena, are you certain that you are alright?" He asks, hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah, I am." I reply, yawning. "I just...Eomer and I would stargaze some nights. It helped me sleep last night." Faramir nods.

"I see. Perhaps there's some way to do this without requiring such an uncomfortable sleeping area?" I shrug, chuckling.

"If there is, let me know. I couldn't think of anything." He smiles.

"Unfortunately, neither can I, milady." He then offers me a hand up. I take it and grin. "Either way, breakfast is being served. Care to join me?" I nod.

"Yes, I would. Thank you!" With that, we make our way to the dining area and began a relaxed, friendly meal.

The relaxed atmosphere evaporated instantly when Eothain appears.

It's then that I remember I had royal duties to attend to. I stand and walk over.

"Hey." I greet. He sighs.

"Hello, gúðcwén." I tilt my head.

"Something wrong?" He closes his eyes.

"We destroyed the army of Orcs we circumvented with the Wose's help." He reports. "We lost almost two hundred men to do so, and that is only counting Rohirrim." I grimace.

"And Gondorians?" I ask tentatively. "How many did they lose?"

"Nearly the same as us." I exhale in disbelief.

"Can we just stop all this fighting?" I mumble aloud without thinking, sighing heavily.

"Not until Sauron is vanquished, I fear, gúðcwén." I manage a weak chuckle.

"You know, you can just call me 'Winnie' or 'Rowena'. I don't really like all those royal titles just yet." Eothain shrugs.

"Regardless, they are yours, milady." I nod with a humorless chuckle.

"Don't I know it." I mumble. Then groan. "Sorry. Didn't mean to drag you into my melodrama." I mumble.

"Quite alright. After all, 'tis a might change fer anyone." He assured me gently, comforting hand on my shoulder. "I must say, though, you appear to be handling it- -"

"I fake it well." I interject, exhaling audibly. "I just…" I sigh, at a helpless loss for words. "I never imagined this...ever. Not even after I was...recalled here." I explain weakly. Eothain frowns.

"'Recalled'?" He asks. I nod.

"Yeah. When I was recovering from the poison wound, I found myself in an audience with Eru Iluvatar in the TImeless Palace. He told me I was a Middle-Earth native that was stillborn, sent over to the world I came from to live, then sent back here when I was needed." Eothain whistles in admiration.

"Sweet _Elbereth_ , Rowena." He breaths. "I had no idea…" I sigh, managing a grin and a shrug.

"It's alright, Eothain. I've made peace with my place here."

"And glad I am to hear it; we all enjoy having you here." I laugh.

"Thanks."

=#=#=#=#=

"Wait, wait, wait…" I mumble, trying to wrap my head around it. "You want to take me where and do what?"

"I want to get you some more clothes, my friend." Lothiriel laughs.

"No, I got _that_. I'm confused about the other thing." I reply, frowning.

"Why is it so confusing that I wish to make you a crown?" Lothiriel retorts, shrugging. "You _are_ a queen, a member of royalty, are you not?" I swallow. Yes, she was right. But...having a crown, _wearing it_ , would mean that all this is really happening, that I truly am a queen. That Theoden was no longer ruler of Rohan, that my husband and I must now shoulder his burden.

And I'm just not sure if I'm ready for it yet.

"Can't that wait? Surely, there are more important matters to- -"

"Nonsense." Lothiriel tuts, waving my protest away "'Twill be a marvelous distraction." I frown, shaking my head and biting my lip.

"No, it won't. It'll only remind me that all of this really is real, that…" I choke on my words suddenly. For some reason...my tongue refused to move. "That Theoden…" Lothiriel's hand is on my shoulder and a guilty, remorseful look clouds her expression.

"Then we shall hold off manufacturing the crown til you are ready." I nod gratefully and wipe my eyes.

"Thanks. Stupid pregnancy is making me so much more emotional and sensitive. I'm sorry."

"No need. All is forgiven. Now come. Let us forget this trifle and make you dresses that will make Eomer never depart again from your side!" I can't help but laugh, even with the pang of longing I feel at Eomer's name.

"Yes, let's!"

=#=#=#=#=

"Oh, my _gosh_! These fabrics...the embroidery...there's no _way_ I can afford this." I mumble in awe, fingering the finished products gently.

"That's no problem, milady." Comes the voice of the tailor, a lovely gentleman by the name of Antioch. "Always a pleasure, serving such fine ladies as yourselves, provided you assist with the embroidery." I chuckle.

"I- -thank you." I mumble, unsure of how to take that.

"Soon as you pick out a pattern and fabric, I can begin the fitting." He goes on to inform me with a friendly smile. I smile back.

"Thanks." I then select a simplistic horse-esque patterning and a lovely soft, emerald green fabric that would be good for spring weather. "I'd like a tunic with this fabric and this design bordering it, please." On and on it goes, selecting different borders and fabrics and requesting dress styles. Before I know it, it's nearing dinner and we're just wrapping up. "Oh, man, did time run away from us." I mumble. "We'll have to come back and help you finish the dresses tomorrow, sir." The man merely waves us away.

"Bah! Away with youse, Yer Majesties." He orders jovially, a merry twinkle in his eye. "Have a good night, now." We wave back.

"Good night, Antioch!" I call, then sigh and pull my new cloak a little tighter about myself. It was still chilly at night. "He was nice." I muse, smirking a little. "It was a pleasant distraction, at least." Lothiriel grins broadly, taking my arm and leading me on eagerly.

"Did I not tell you it would be so?" She teases.

"You did. And I am happy you dragged me along." I reply. Lothiriel chuckles.

"I hardly needed to press you into it, dear. You came of your own volition." I nod.

"But thanks for suggesting it." By now, we were in the dining hall and approaching our seats.

=#=#=#=#=

Another hour or more of unease, another slip-out to the grassed area holding the King's Tree (as I was told it was called; a reminder of the withered state Gondor's royalty was in) to try and let stargazing relax me into a bit of rest.

Only this time, I was not alone.

"Caught red-handed, milady." Came's Faramir's voice, bemused but just a tad concerned. I look at him without getting up.

"It's the only way I can get any sleep at all." I mumble, just the right amount of sheepish while still being unapologetic. He sighs and sits beside me.

"The stars have always held a fascination to me, I must admit." He confesses, smiling. "Perhaps I'll lay a while, help you discern the constellations…" I grin back, patting the ground beside me.

"Please. I'd like that a lot." And so he does, making sure he was not too close. I smile and point out the Rohirric constellations Eomer had taught me. Faramir then points out the Gondorian constellations he'd studied during his schooling. I am once more distracted, unknowing and uncaring of the time spent listening to my friend until my eyelids begin to droop.

=#=#=#=#=

" _Rowena, darling, open your eyes." I do to find that I am back in the Timeless Palace. I scrunch my face in confusion as I stand, looking around to find that Eru was not sitting on his throne. In fact, the place seemed deserted. "Now, now, dear; you're not dead and Eru is simply attending to other matters. I brought you here so we can talk." I spin to find a woman that seems like a hermit, with hand-braided and woven clothes and dreadlocks in her- -wait...no...her hair is braided, right down to each individual strand! It's amazing and complex and I can't stop looking at it. She chuckles. "Yes, each thread on my head is braided and woven together. For, you see, I am the Weaver of TIme." That title rings a bell._

" _Vaire?" I ask softly, still unable to stop looking at her hair. She laughs._

" _Yes, Rowena. I've been very intrigued by your particular thread of life." She muses. I frown._

" _You control what happens, don't you?" I ask. She takes a step nearer and I see that one eye is golden and one is silver, but both are fully capable of seeing, I can tell._

" _Not exactly. It's more...the writing and weaving are happening and I am merely the vessel through which the events flow. Particularly if Eru has a plan for the individual. And he seems intent on his own ideas for you, little one." I frown._

" _This isn't making sense."_

" _No, I suppose it doesn't, but there's something you need to know." She says and I take a step back, not liking where this is going._

" _Oh?"_

" _Your husband_ _ **will**_ _make it back to you, so relax." I blink._

" _That's all you wanted to tell me?" She shakes her head, highly amused._

" _No, no. You're also expecting guests...and twins." I reel back slightly, hand on my stomach._

" _Wh-what?!" I ask in shock._

" _You heard me; there are twins in there, not just one offspring." She repeats, pointing to my stomach. "Also, expect guests within the day."_

" _Wha- -" Before I can finish my reply, she and the Palace are gone and I am returning to the real world._


	44. An Unexpected Reunion

**_SWORE_ I UPLOADED THIS EARLIER, GUYS! SORRY! BUT HERE IT IS, THE NEW CHAPTER. NOW, FIRST THINGS FIRST; REVIEWS. **

**Indigo575: *blushes* Thank you, friend! That's so sweet! And yes, Eomer will be quite shocked, but happy, at the news. It'll be so cute to write! XD**

 **Me and Not You 1001: You're welcome! *bows* I must thank you in return, though. In all honesty, I was struggling to come up with ideas and you helped cement what I wanted to do with that chapter and this one and I dearly hope you like it.**

 **Jo: I LOVE WRITING IT, TOO! XD**

 **Emperor Delacus: Yes, she had a tough time. Until Vaire helped her out, that is. Since Rowena met Eru, I've kinda wanted to do another Valar meeting/vision thing, so that was a neat chance to do just that.**

 **And I would** _ **never**_ **just make a character disappear like that. Ever. She's a genuine personality in the story...and I've read too many Lothiriel/Eomer fanfics to just ignore her. ;P**

 **HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY!**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

I slowly came awake to find that I was back in my ward with the sun just starting to shine on my face. I was also completely relaxed and at peace, and it took a moment to remember why.

The Timeless Palace...Vaire...and her news.

 _Twins_! I was expecting not just one child, but _two_! I could hardly believe it! And her assurance that Eomer would survive Mordor was a huge mood booster, as well.

The only odd thing was the hint about 'guests'. What on (Middle-)Earth was that about?! What guests?!

"Who told you anything about guests?" Halwyn's voice breaks into the silence and I realize that 1) I'd been pacing and 2) I'd spoken aloud. I flush.

"Oh, nothing. Just a weird dream I had last night." I sigh and flop onto my bed, suddenly frustrated. Obviously, I knew what 'expect guests' meant, but...what and _who_ that meant was beyond me.

"Care to tell a friend?" Halwyn asks, smiling and sitting beside me. I run my hands over my face.

"Well...in the dream, I had a meeting with Viare, the- -

"Weaver of Time." Halwyn breaths. "By _Elbereth_ , Rowena! What was she like?!" I can't help a laugh.

"Really interesting. _Everything_ about her was not what I expected. Her hair was braided and woven, down to each individual strand. Her eyes were two different colors; gold and silver. Anyway, she said that Eomer was fine, that he'd come back...and that I was expecting twins." Halwyn's eyes snap wide.

"That is marvelous news!" I grin.

"Yeah, it is. The last thing she said, though, was 'expect guests within the day'. I can't figure out who or what she meant by that." I explain. Halwyn frowns.

"A curious thing to say, I agree. Perhaps she simply meant that the people of Minas Tirith that were evacuated are returning?" I shake my head.

"I don't think so. She made it seem like it was _me_ personally that was expecting guests, not just as a generalized statement." I reply. Halwyn hums in thought.

"That makes this more puzzling, to be sure." She muses. I sigh, running irritated finger through my hair.

"I suppose I'll know 'em when I see 'em." I muse, shrugging as I stand. "Anywho, I'm hungry. Let's go get some breakfast!" Halwyn laughs.

"Precisely what I came to retrieve you for, Gúðcwén." I roll my eyes at the title, but remember that I am the Queen, and as such, there were things I simply had to get used to. Titles being one of the top items on the list.

A crown being one of the other top slots. Ugh, I hate it. I don't want to...be set apart yet. Wearing a crown would automatically put me in a different grouping altogether. I would _truly_ be royalty then. Any sense of normalcy would vanish. I know it has to happen sometime, and soon, but...I can't help but cling to the way things were, when I was just the wife of the Third Marshall, not Queen.

I shake myself and force a smile. "Lead the way."

=#=#=#=#=

Breakfast was quiet, but (for once) not _dis_ quiet. At least, not to me. For me, I was content to let us talk or not.

"You seem rather cheery this morning, sweoster." Eowyn muses with a smirk. I nod, grateful that she didn't use my royal title.

"Well, yeah. It's a lovely morning, the sun is shining- -"

"Oh, by _Eru_ , Winnie!" Halwyn interjects excitedly. "Just _tell_ her!" I laugh, even as Halwyn smacks my shoulder and Eowyn watches in confusion.

"Tell me _what_?" She asks, unable to help laughing.

"I had a dream/meeting/vision- -whatever you wanna call it- -with Vaire last night." Eowyn frowns.

"As in, the Weaver of Time?" I nod.

"The same woman!" I cheer. "Anyway, she told me that Eomer would return, alive." Eowyn's eyes water with happy tears.

"Truly?" I nod, taking her hand and looking her dead in the eye.

"Truly. Also...I'm expecting twins, she said." Eowyn's elated watery laugh makes the entire room lighter.

"Oh, how wonderful!" I nod several times, laughing.

"I know!" I reply eagerly. "I can't wait to tell Eomer when he gets back." I then sigh, knowing that it would be a while. Ah, well. That sting is lessened, however, knowing that he _will_ come back.

Eventually.

=#=#=#=#=

The time had come. I knew I should've done this long ago, but...at least I'm here now, laying a small bundle of wildflowers on the chest of the man I'd had too little time with while he was alive.

"Hey, Theoden." I sob, sniffling back tears and licking my lip. "Sorry it took so long. I would say being a Queen keeps you busy, but…" I swallow thickly, tears finally sliding down my cheeks. "that'd be a lie, and we both know it. I just...wanted to say goodbye, and thanks." More tears flow and I move to sit more comfortably at the head of the former Lord of the Mark with a sheet over the body. I swallow. "I'm sorry I obeyed you and went into the city. I mean...okay, I know you gave an order, but...I can't help but think that maybe there was something I could've done to stop you from dying. I dunno. Maybe. I- -I I'm so sorry! I should have been there!" I scream at myself and the floodgates open. Anything else I would have said was drowned in sorrow and a grief I hadn't felt since I was eight years old.

A loss in the family.

=#=#=#=#=

The answer to the question of my 'guests' is answered after Lothiriel finds me still sobbing in front of Theoden's body. She never says anything, guiding me to my room and settling me on the bed. I don't let her leave, however. I yank her in for a hug and don't let her leave as I desperately try to get myself together.

"Th-thanks." I mumbled when my vocal cords are under enough control to gasp out a few words.

"No need, my friend. It is never easy to farewell a member of the family." Is all she says in response. We sat there for who knows how long when Eothain came knocking on the doorway. I wiped my eyes and sat straighter.

Time to don the Queen's mask again.

"Y-yeah?" I ask, hating the stutter and the weakness to my voice. "What is it?" That time, my voice was strong and I swallow again to ensure no breaks would crop up again. Eothain, bless him, chooses- -wisely- -not to comment, seeming to pick up just what happened without explanation. Not that it would take Sherlock to deduce, though.

"There is an older woman and a pair of children, highly distraught, screaming something about 'that bobber between worlds', requesting that they be taken to you." I frown. "They're requesting you by name, though I've never seen them before. The older lady has slightly greying auburn hair- -insanely curly, by- -Oi!" No...way...it couldn't be…

 _Could_ it?! Instantly, I am off the bed and tearing down the hall, beckoning to Eothain as I do so.

"Take me there!"

=#=#=#=#=

"-elling you! _Take me to Rowena, or I swear_ \- -" I nearly chuckle. Oh, yes. It was who I thought it was.

"Màthair! (Mother!)" I scream, pressing myself ever closer and she spins, all auburn curls and shock in those crystal blue eyes. "Tha thu fhèin! (It's you!)" I am then all but tackled in elation.

"Mo phàiste! (My child!)" Mom cries, kissing my face all over and squeezing the breath from my lungs as the twins take my other sides. "I _knew_ we'd find you!"

"What?" I wheeze and Mom forces Aspen and Willow to release me and we all take one another in. My family...here in Arda... _how_?!

"Well, we kinda went storm-chasing, hoping we'd find the same portal that sent you away." Aspen pipes up happily. I frown.

"Màthair?" I ask. "What's he talking about?" Mom chuckles, scratching the back of her head.

"Well, we all went a little nuts without you, so we decided to kinda...patrol the shore of Loch Ness, about where the police said you would've fallen in, praying we'd somehow find whatever portal took you...and eventually, we did, obviously." I nod, sighing. Figures.

"So...did...did you find a body?" I ask softly. Mom shakes her head.

"That was the first tip that something else happened to you. There was only your clothes, slightly charred, soaked, and washed up on the shore. Then, about a week after the funeral, we decided to watch Lord of the Rings, as it was your favorite, then we saw you appear in that field as the Three Hunters passed by, and it was suddenly clear what had happened." I gulp.

"Ho-how much have you seen?" I ask, throat dry and I know my face is pale, my eyes wide. Dear _God_ , this could be _very_ awkward! Willow laughs.

"Pretty much until we knew you were settled in Edoras, then we started our patrol." I hug everyone to me again in elation. My family was slightly insane, reckless, and amazing, all at once.

"Gúðcwén?" Eothain then asks "Forgive me, but...how do you know- -"

"I _birthed_ her!" Mom snaps testily, pulling out of the embrace to whirl on my friend. "Sir, I- -"

"Mom, relax. He's a friend." I interject, squeezing Aspen and Will to me. I then turn to Eothain, clearing my throat. How best to go about introducing my family to my...new family? "Eothain, this is my Mother, Meredith O'Neil, my little sister, Willow, and my little brother, Aspen." Eothain chuckled.

"Didn't flowers ever interest you, milady? They- -" Mom's impatient sniff was an alarm bell, and I needed to intervene.

"Trees are just as good, Eothain." I cut him off.

"Yes, gúðcwén." Eothain mumbles, still smirking.

"What is that he called you?" Willow asks. I stammer for an answer, unsure of how to tell my family that I was royalty.

"Well- -you see- -uh...the thing is..um…" I take a breath. It was better for them to hear it from me, rather than letting them find out on their own and be hurt I didn't tell them. "It means...uh, it means...Queen." I mumble, playing with my fingers. In sync, as predicted, my family's eyes widen.

"What?!" Willow asks incredulously. "Of what?" I sigh.

"Of Rohan." I reply. "Eomer and I- -" Again, I knew Mom's reaction before I'd said a word.

"You're married?!" I nod, showing her my left hand as proof.

"Yeah. And now Queen of Rohan." At this point, Eothain has wondered off, presumably to tell his wife all that had just happened. Mom exhales loudly, shaking her head in wonder as she tried to process what all was going on.

"Any _other_ revelations you care to share?" She asks sarcastically. I bite my lip.

"Well...other than the twins I'm expecting in January or so, no." Everyone squeaks in shock.

" _What_?!" They cry in sync. "I was being sarcastic!" Mom adds incredulously.

"And I didn't think it wise to let you hear that from anyone else." I retort, arms crossed.

"Damn straight I wanted to hear that from _you_!" Mom snaps, then sighs, putting the pieces together- -or thinking she had- -judging by the subtle knit to her brow, the calculating look to her eyes.

"Did you two…"

" _No_!" I interject, eyes narrowed. "Honestly, Mom. You've been hammering me with that since I could understand words, practically. Eomer and I agreed early into our courtship that we wouldn't get physical until the wedding night. And we didn't."

"So, this is…"

"Wedding night, probably. We've only done it one other time." Mom grimaced, rubbing her temples.

"TMI, honey." I laugh.

"Sorry. Again, didn't want you hearing it from anyone else." Willow gently lays a hand on my stomach.

"Well, you're stomach isn't _that_ much bigger." She muses, tilting her head. I laugh.

"I'm only a few weeks into the pregnancy." I reply. Mom frowns.

"You've only been _here_ a week or two." She replies. I shake my head.

"No, I've been here almost a month now. Maybe a little longer."

"Really?" Mom asks. I nod.

"I guess time is different here than on our world." I reply, feeling a little guilty that I didn't tell her I was actually from here originally. But, on the other hand...all I knew was my world growing up. I'd never felt out of place or like a foreigner until I came here. I guess I wasn't far from the truth after all… "Come on." I coax, grinning ear to ear. "I'd like you guys to meet my new friends and family." I lead them back into the Houses of Healing, where Eowyn was in her ward, eating a luncheon of white bread, meat, cheese, and (I laughed when I saw it) an apple. "Hello, sweoster." I greet warmly. Her grin brightens the room once more, then falters subtly when she takes in my trailing family. "Uh, Eowyn, this is my family; my mother, Meredith, sister Willow, and brother Aspen." I introduce. "Guys, meet Eowyn, my sister-in-law." Eowyn bows her head politely.

"An honour, to be sure." She greets, smiling, then turns to me. "I thought you alone were sent here." I nod.

"I was alone here...til now." I reply, shrugging. "Apparently, the Valar didn't want me to be separated from them anymore." Mom frowns.

"The 'Valar'?" She asks. I nod.

"Pretty much the incredibly powerful minions of the God of Middle-Earth, Eru Iluvatar. Anyway, you all, have, ah, any questions?" Eowyn tilts her head.

"How did your family come to Middle-Earth, sweoster?" She asks.

"Well, same way I did; they got struck by lightning on the shores of Loch Ness." I reply, smiling. "They just couldn't get enough of me and decided to pop over." My family and I laugh, with poor Eowyn left confused, yet amused, in our wake. Oh, it was _so_ good to see everyone again.

Just what the doctor- -or Valar- -ordered.

 **APOLOGIES THAT THIS IS SLIGHTLY SHORTER, BUT AT LEAST THE WAIT WAS SHORTER, SO MAYBE PUT DOWN THE TORCHES AND PITCHFORKS? PLEASE? ;)**

 **ANYWAY, AS ALWAYS, I'D LOVE TO HEAR Y'ALL'S THOUGHTS. CIAO!**


	45. New Adjustments to be Made

***LOOKS AT 'LAST UPDATED' DATE* *SHRIEKS, FAINTS***

 **HERE IS THE NEXT CHAPTER FOR YOU ALL! YAY! CHAPTER 45?! WHOO-HOO!**

 **...ONE OF THESE DAYS I'M GONNA GET ON AND** _ **STICK TO**_ **A CONSISTENT UPLOAD SCHEDULE. UGH. ANYWAY, LET'S SEE WHAT REVIEWS I'VE GOTTEN BEFORE MOVING ON TO THE STORY!**

 **Rosmund Chadwick (guest): Hey! Welcome! Thanks for those kind words! And, yeah, I normally do, but...I guess that one fell through the cracks. XD I'll go and fix in a bit.**

 **Dothdomarvelous: Welcome, welcome! The idea to bring her family into Middle-Earth was simply because I didn't want to leave my poor Rowena alone for the rest of her life. And it was a way to diverge from other, similar fanfictions I've read. Anyway, glad you like the twist and hope I don't kill you with the reunion! ;) I am** _ **super**_ **happy you are enjoying my story and the relationships between the characters, as well.**

 **Jo: Glad to hear from you again, and that you're still in love with my story! XD**

 **Liza: I really appreciate your honest 'criticism' of my story and they were all fantastic points. I am not trying to degrade or discourage more reviews like this, or your points, but I simply want to explain the thought processes that went into those moments.**

 **First, it was mainly the remnants of the poison arrow that gave her the nausea and other symptoms, as I'd imagine that poison takes a while to completely recover from. Gandalf simply sensed the conception happening and told her, but it might not have been what caused that surge of nausea.**

 **About switching emotions, we humans are complex creatures, and as such, we can go through many responses to things in a short timespan. That in no way is meant to excuse sloppy writing and I apologize if I've done that. It's simply that Rowena tries to comfort her friends and 'family' by trying to try and inject a bit of humor into the situation, even if it's not really called for. And she was not worried about her reputation so much as those false rumors being spread. She knew it was early on, so if the correct information could be spread, that was enough for Rowena to move on with her life.**

 **Glad you're looking forward to more and thanks for sharing your thoughts!**

 **Me and Not You 1001: Glad you love it! XD And maybe Mama O'Neil will find something to give Eomer a stern talking-to about when they meet! ;) That would be pretty funny.**

 **Emperor DeLacus: Yes, they are! XD I simply couldn't not let Rowena see her family again! I'm not** _ **that**_ **cruel! ;) They certainly have a lot to get used to, that's for sure.**

 **I felt Rowena needed a chance to say goodbye, but hadn't had that opportunity (and she was kinda dragging her feet, if she's being honest with herself) yet. I knew I needed to address it and hope I did it well and realistically. Lothiriel does bridge Gondor and Rohan in the books, but in my story, it's more Eowyn and Faramir, since Eomer is already taken. ;P**

 **Those Valar are slightly eccentric characters, aren't they? XD**

 **HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY THIS UPDATE!**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!  
~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

My family's arrival, while I loved having them here and them in general, meant that I was, once again, made the center of attention, as they (understandably) followed me around virtually everywhere I went and everyone was curious as to who they were. I'd already had to explain this situation about ten times.

And I was not yet through lunch, which was only about two hours after my family arrived. Halwyn, thank Eru for her, seemed to pick it up just by looking and smiled with a pat on the shoulder.

"Glad to see you're not alone anymore, sweoster." She'd said. I'd laughed and told her 'I've never been alone here. Not when you and Eowyn keep pestering me.' and we'd hugged. Lothiriel, too, seemed not to need too much explanation, a shrug and smile before introductions aside. This was just the change of pace I needed, however. A chance to focus on something other than the war and managing Rohan's people alone til my husband gets back.

And Eru only knows how long _that'll_ be.

=#=#=#=#=

"So...have you thought of names for the twins yet?" Mom asks wryly as we sit in Antioch's shop, in a secluded side room, stitching away at my new clothes. I blush a bit and shake my head.

"Ma, Eomer left not two days after we found out I was pregnant, and...with the war, and him planning that march on the Black Gates, we just didn't have time." Mom puts a hand on mine and we both stop stitching. Suddenly, a heavy, depressed mood settled on my shoulders. Eomer and I hadn't even _thought_ about naming our kids.

I know he's coming back, but... _when_? And what if he's...not the same?

"Honey?" Mom asks softly, eyes concerned and inquisitive. "What's wrong?" I wipe away sudden brimming tears.

"It's just...I _kn-know_ Eomer's coming back, but...I mean, what if he's...different?" Mom takes my hand and moves to face me directly.

"Sweetie, remember the movies? Eomer is perfectly fine, standing there at Aragorn's coronation." I frown.

"We-well...those movies and books have been harder and harder to remember since I got here. Probably so I don't change everything by accidentally telling someone something I shouldn't have." I reply, sniffling.

"Well, I can assure you, it'll all work out." Mom replies, patting my shoulder before we go back to stitching. I swallow.

"Thanks, Mom." I mumble genuinely.

"Anytime, dear."

=#=#=#=#=

"Am I a princess?" The question caught me off-guard as I helped make the bed in my family's ward.

"What?"

"Am I a princess, since you're Queen?" Willow asked again. I laugh.

"Uh...maybe? I'm not too sure. I've only been at this...maybe close to three days now." I reply, eyes not quite reflecting my smile. Theoden...it still hurts.

"Oh. Sorry." WIll had always been great at picking up when people weren't displaying everything they were feeling. "Sis?"

"Hmm?" I reply, tucking the sheets in at the bottom corners and making sure everything was in order.

"I'm glad Mom got the idea to try and come here." I nod, hugging her.

"Me, too." My little sister buries her head in my abdomen, and I swear wet splotches appear in my shirt, muffled sobs barely reaching my ears. I grimace, but remain right where I was. In so many ways, the twins were still so young, even at 20 and a half. It was natural that they were so upset. I bet Mom and Penny were having/will have a similar conversation elsewhere.

"I m-missed you _so_ much!" Willow suddenly cries, hugging me tighter. I squeeze her back.

"I missed you all, too." I reply, getting teary-eyed, as well. "Now, let's go get you all settled in." I prompt, not wanting to dwell on this anymore. Will gives me a watery laugh.

"There's not much _to_ settle in, really." She muses. I shrug.

"Well, let's go find Ma and Penny and show 'em where you guys are staying, at least." She nods.

"Yeah!"

=#=#=#=#=

Evening came sooner than any could have guessed and soon enough, Will and Penny were amusing everyone with their wild tales of their younger days spent making small towns in the woods and trying to hollow out a hill to make a Hobbit-hole type getaway.

"Did you join your little siblings often?" Halwyn asks. I laugh.

"Probably not as much as I should have, but as often as I thought I could, I had a shovel in hand and a sheen of dirt all over me." I reply lightly, chuckling in fond reminiscence as I bring my goblet of mead to my lips. Halwyn laughs, as well.

"Somehow, I can picture it perfectly." Lothiriel replies for both of them. I laugh with them.

"I remember having to kick you out there when you got too wrapped up in school." Mom muses, chuckling and sipping at her ale. She then side-hugs me. "And now, you're a queen." I manage a smile and chuckle for everyone's sake, but it doesn't reach my eyes. Or my heart. Thankfully, Mom then steers craftily away from that particular subject, seeming to sense that I was not comfortable with it. "So, you nearly killed yourself running with the Three Hunters, met Eomer, then made it to Edoras." Mom muses. "Then what happened?" I eat more meat stew before answering.

"Well, Theoden, as you remember, was under Saruman's control via Grima. He sent Eomer to the dungeons, and even that was only because I spoke up, not wanting a guy I didn't know who'd already done a lot for me to be punished for being a gentleman. Then, in the next day or so, Gandalf and the Hunters showed up, cured Theoden, and we-" My throat hitches at the memory of the look on Theoden's face when he discovered the fate of his son. "-we buried Theodred." I mumble, forcing myself to continue talking. "After that, that little boy and girl, Frida and Eorand, showed up and told us the Wild Men were on the warpath all over Rohan. We moved to the Deep, fought off the advancing Orcs and Men with help from the elves- -"

"And your daughter led the defense of the Glittering Caves, might I add." Halwyn interjects eagerly. I blush.

"Halwyn!" I protest. She smiles unapologetically at me.

"Aye, and she was quite brilliant at it, I must say." I groan and let my forehead hit the table.

"What did you do?" Mom asks, impressed and curious. I sigh and sit up.

"I had an even distribution of the shieldmaidens covering each entrance with the last portion a reserve, just in case. I then went outside the caves and defended the entrance with my glock." I report listlessly, eager to get this over with. Mom's eyes widen.

"She even saved the Elve's commander from certain death!" Halwyn chimes in. I round on her.

"Halwyn!" She shrugs. I groan. "Okay, yes. He was surrounded and all I did was back him up then take him to the Caves for treatment." I explain.

"Honey, why didn't you tell me?!" Mom asks, laughing. "You're a bamf!" I let my head hit the table again.

"I didn't tell you cus it's not a- -"

"Yes, it most certainly _is_ a big deal!" Mom interjects happily, nudging my shoulder.

"All I did was what _anyone_ else would have done." I mumble, squirming a little. "That's it." Mom looks at me with pride and bemusement.

"Oh, hun. You've always downplayed yourself." She says. I sigh. "I am really proud of you." I laugh, finally, at the way I reacted, wiping away happy tears- -again- -that my mom was here and hearing about what she'd missed.

"Thanks, mum." I reply.

"Anytime, honey. If you don't want to continue, that's okay." I shake my head.

"Well, I think the worst is behind us." I quip, shrugging. "Don't see why I should stop now." I then take a breath. "Then, after the battle, Eomer came and found me and we, uh, kissed and confessed our feelings and- -"

"Wait, you kissed after just a few days of getting to know each other?" Mom interjects. I blush.

"Y-yes, ma'am." I mumble, feeling like a child. Mom sighs.

"You certainly know how to dive straight into things." She muses. "Like that Early Education job you were pursuing." I nod.

"Yeah. Anyway, we then met up with Theoden and some others, including Gandalf, and we decided we should go to Isengard and talk with Saruman. It went pretty much as it did in the plays." I mumble, squirming as I think of how to explain my near betrayal to my mother. "Th-then, I, uh, well...I stupidly spoke up when Saruman insulted Theoden and Saruman and I had a little chat." I confess, squirming a little more. "He asked to see my gun, and- -and I nearly gave it to him. You should have heard his voice, mum!" I ramble on. "It was weird, but I snapped out of it and verbally flipped Saruman off and then the conversation in the play resumed, ending with Grima stabbing Saruman in the back."

"So, things went pretty much the same, except you were there?" Mom asks. I nod.

"Pretty much, with me and Eomer courting, then him proposing right before we rode out for Minas Tirith." I muse. Mom, predictably, looks shocked.

"Wait, what?!" I laugh. It was so much fun to be able to tease her like this.

"Yeah, he did. He- -we- -figured, if we were going to die, we wanted to die as a married couple, not just courtiers." I reply. Mom looks a little shell-shocked.

"My little girl...already married." I flush.

"Ma, I'm 25!" I protest.

"But still." She sighs. "I suppose one never gets used to how fast their kids grow." I roll my eyes.

"Okay, now you're just being overdramatic." I mumble, smirking as I eat a few more bites of food.

"Hey, sis!" Will calls. "Do you have a crown yet?" I pale. Here we go again…

"No. I don't." I mumble, then force a smile. "I've only been a queen for a few days. There's not...not been enough time to make one." I convince myself it's the truth, and it largely is. I just don't tell them that I hate the idea of a crown and thus haven't even begun thinking about anything concerning it.

"Oh. Cool!" Willow calls back. The conversation then turns to other things and I frankly lose myself in these moments, the laughter and ease surrounding this table, even if only temporarily.

=#=#=#=#=

I was not surprised when the twins showed up in my room once the sky was dark and others were retiring. I simply smiled and invited them in.

"This room is bigger than ours." Aspen muses, smiling as he takes it all in. "And it's only meant for one person." I shake my head.

"No, it's a two-person suite." Willow sighs.

"Well, let's hope three isn't pushing it." I smile, ruffling her hair.

"I don't think it will be." I muse, then flop down. "C'mon. I'm tired." The twins laugh and lay down on either side of me. They then wrap one arm each around me, as if scared I'd disappear if they were to let go. I kiss their temples. "Don't worry, guys. I'm not going anywhere." I tell them. They just cling tighter to me and bury their faces in my shirt.

"At least, not without us." Will's muffled voice replies. I nod.

"You got that right. Now, let's get some sleep."

And so, we slowly relax and let our eyes close and before we know it, we're asleep.

=#=#=#=#=

"-arlings, it's time to wake up." That's my mother.

"Mum, five mo' minush." My brother slurs, not quite awake yet. I hear her chuckle and have to blink several times in the sunlight before I can see her.

"Come on, you three." I yawn.

"What's goin' on, Mum?" I ask, stretching as my siblings shimmy further into the covers, mumbling 'no' in varying degrees of understandability.

"I thought we all should do something as a family today." I grin.

"Awesome! Any ideas?" Mum shrugs.

"Not really. You?" I grin wider.

"Don't I ever!"

=#=#=#=#=

"And you're sure this is a good idea?" Willow asks tentatively, squirming uncomfortably. I nod.

"Yep! All you gotta do is put your foot in the stirrup and swing up and over. Easy. Watch me." I explain, then swing up. "See?" Will sighs, and tries...only to overshoot and slip over the other side of the saddle! I can't help laughing, even as I get down to help her up.

"Yo-you okay?" I ask, still laughing. She scowls playfully at me.

"Yeah, you jerk! You didn't tell me how to do it!" I nod.

"I did! Come on; let's try again." I then give her more precise instructions. She then gets it and sits confidently in the saddle. "There we go!" I cheer, grinning at her. "Now, let's go!" I cheer, finding Aspen already in the saddle. I then kick the horse I was riding and lead them out. We go at a good pace over the fields, heading toward a small forest off to the side of the Pellenor Fields. Looking back over the field, I see several bodies still untouched. Mumakil lay like small hills, as well.

"...Damn." Will breaths. I nod.

"You should have been here." I mumble.

"You were on the field?!" Penny asks incredulously. I smile.

"At first, then Theoden sent me to the city. I did shoot down a Mumakil, though, before I went."

"You _what_?!" The twins hiss. I nod, smiling.

"Yep! Took two shots to the head." My siblings gaped at me.

"...When did you become such a BAMF, sis?" Will asks. I laugh.

"Since I became immersed in a war against Sauron." I retort. The look the twins gave me made me sad. It was a look that said 'I'm not sure I know this new you, nor am I sure I understand just how much you've changed'. I swallow. I _had_ changed, but I like to think it's for the better. After all, I had done little to actually obtain a job that utilized my degree in Early Education, preferring to simply remain in stasis, working at the coffee shop and school, content in the meager earnings slowly inflating my bank account.

Now, I'd actually _done_ something. I'd been more live since coming here than I'd even been back at home.

Here, I was more than just going through the motions.

Here, I actually _was_ someone, I was _living_. I was home.


	46. A Long-Anticipated Reunion

**SOME *KICKS OPEN DOOR* BODY ONCE TOLD ME- -OKAY, I"LL STOP NOW, BUT** _ **GUESS WHO'S BACK, BACK AGAIN**_ **!**

 **OKAY, SERIOUSLY, I'LL STOP. XD ANYWHO, MERRY CHRISTMAS (EVE), AND LET'S GET THIS THING GOING!**

 **Unlimited Shadow: *waves you inside* Welcome, friend! I LOVE your story! Please don't take my confused review as a token of my dislike or anything of that sort. I just didn't see the first story, so I started in the second story and just got a tad confused. Glad you like my story so much! XD**

 **Emperor DeLacus: So nice to hear from you again! XD Yeah, poor Winnie would kinda be a mess right now if it weren't for them to distract her from worrying about how long it's taking the Men of the West to get back. Glad you love those little moments, cus they ain't going anywhere! XD**

 **Me and Not You 1001: I will (hopefully; I'm still writing the chapter as I write this reply) get to at least when Eomer arrives and Rowena spots him, if not through the entire reunion. Glad you (all) love my story! ^/^**

 **Madi: *singing wildly off-key*** _ **Guess who's back (back), back again! Shady's back, tell a friend!**_ **XD Anyway, yeah, I'm back, baby! WWWHHOOO!**

 **Indigo575: I know! I know! I just...didn't want to draw out y'all's wait** _ **even more**_ **, so I just went 'close enough to my usual length' and posted it. Sorry!**

 **Jo: Glad to hear it! XD**

 **BEFORE I GET INTO THE CHAPTER, I JUST WANT TO SAY THAT THIS CHAPTER RELIES A BIT MORE ON THE BOOKS AND THAT EVENTS IN THIS CHAPTER** _ **DO**_ **HAPPEN IN THE BOOKS. AS A PRESENT FOR YOU ALL, THIS CHAPTER IS LONGER THAN THE OTHERS! ENJOY!**

 **GOD BLESS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

 **[Eomer Bonus Scene]**

The ride was far worse than the battle he faced. Eomer shook his head at himself.

Here he was, the new King of Rohan, land of the _Horse_ Lords, _sick_ of the saddle. All the soldiers were far too uneasy and nervous to talk, much less laugh and relax like they had previously, and would do any other time. This left Eomer to his thoughts, which always seemed fixed on his Queen, the Lady Rowena. Constantly, like a torturous itch under his skin, his worry for his wife nagged him. He wondered if she was well, if she was adjusting to her new status, if the growing child- - _their child- -_ inside her was causing her any discomfort.

 _Everything_ unknown about Rowena made Eomer uncomfortable. Not enough to regret that she was safe in Minas Tirith, with only minor inconveniences to face and conquer. Never enough for that, but he couldn't help worrying all the same. Night came quickly and with it, another restless night Eomer spent cursing this foolhardy move and trying to remember how it felt to lay with Rowena in his arms, content, safe, and happy in each other. This thought is the only way he can get anywhere close to sleep.

 _His dream was simple; he awoke to find Rowena smiling at him._

" _Good morning, my love." She whispered, not fully awake but not quite half-asleep, either._

" _Good morning." He returns, grinning ear-to-ear. "Any word from our bairns?" Rowena chuckles, burrowing deeper into their sheets, closing her eyes._

" _Not yet, but I expect they'll be along shortly." She replies as she eyes him again, her voice muffled by the fur. Sure enough, as soon as Eomer pulled the sheets down just enough to kiss his beautiful wife, there was a pattering of feet and then their door is open and seconds later, two small bodies land squarely on each of the bed's occupants. "Ow!" Rowena protests playfully, tickling their son and laughing with him. "And just what are you doing up so early?" Rowena asks, knowing the answer._

" _Happy Yuletide,_ _fæder!" Their daughter, Ailith, cheers heartily from her perch on Eomer's chest._

" _Same, byrðre!" Elfwine, the other half of the Heirs of Rohan, adds happily. Their toothy grins make their parents beam contentedly back at them. The royal couple sit up and settle their children more comfortably in their laps. The family then merely enjoy each other's presence for a while...until the children grew restless, as nearing-five-year-olds tend to do._

Next morning, Eomer found himself slightly confused, but happy in the memory of his dream as he rode onward, actually smiling for the first time in days.

 **[Actual Story]**

Early morning walks, like my siblings sharing my bed at night, became a routine between my mother and I, in which we discussed my relationship with Eomer (which my mom could not be convinced wasn't rushed- -and it may be, I know- -but was happy I was happy with him and he with me) and _all_ that happened while I was gone and what I had done while here in Middle-Earth.

Turns out, Dad hadn't even noticed my 'death', and as such was shocked by Mom's frantic, sobbing call. They had divorced a while ago.

It was a hard first year after the divorce, but once we came out the other end, settling in Inverness to escape the memory of Dad, we knew we wouldn't go back for the world.

Then I died in our world and arrived here. But now that my family had arrived here, as well, I could help them heal from the damage I'd done by disappearing.

An added bonus of our early morning walks was seeing Faramir and Eowyn walking together, as well, basking in each other, their conversations, and the morning sun.

In other news, Bergil (Beregond's son) found a companion in both Merry and my siblings, who didn't mind being the older of the humans in their little group, as long as they got their daily wrestling matches in.

Merry, it turns out, was quite skilled in wrestling and could use his little bag of tricks to his advantage, as well as tutoring my brother and sister in his ways.

I watched, highly amused, as Merry made my brother tap out of their match, Aspen's face scrunched in pain as he tried not to scream. Merry, being the sweetheart he is, immediately let go and began a series of rapid-fire apologies, checking Penny over for injuries. Penny just laughed.

"Honestly, it just hurt in the moment." My brother explains, rolling his shoulder a few times. "It's fine. Nicely done!" He adds, offering a handshake Merry took gingerly, as it was the 'hurt' arm's hand he was shaking.

"Thanks." Merry murmurs. Bergil then comes up to me, holding something behind his back.

"Close your eyes and hold out your hands, please, Milady." He politely bids. I chuckle even as I do as he says. Something that feels like some kind of vegetation falls into my hands. "Open!" Bergil then chirps and I open my eyes to see a handmade crown of white heather. My eyes go wide.

"Bergil, did...did you make this?" I ask breathily in shock, eagerly slipping it atop my hair, where it settled perfectly. I may not want a real crown just yet, but this is quite different. It was a gift from an innocent little boy. I'd be rude not to accept and adore it, and I genuinely love his crown. Bergil blushes, but nods, head down and feet squirming, betraying his nerves. I smile.

"Bergil, it's _amazing_!" I cheer, gently lifting his chin so he could see the truth of my words in my eyes. "Thank you." He slowly smiles and dares to bring my knuckles up for a quick, innocuous peck of his lips. I grin and pretend to be all flustered. "My my, sir!" I protest airily, fanning my cheeks with an over dramatic hand.

"I've got to get to my father for the noontide meal, but I'll be back, my fair queen!" He cheers equally as dramatically. I laugh and shoo him along, dropping the facade.

"Run along, scoundrel!" I call after him, shaking my head in fond amusement. He'd been socializing with Merry too much lately. Just before he leaves my line of sight, he salutes me with a cheeky grin. I chuckle as I turn to head inside for my lunch with Faramir, who'd taken a mere minute out of his morning walk (with a Eowyn-shaped absence beside him, I'd noted) to ask if I would join him in his quarters for the noontide meal. I'd agreed, in part to ask if anything had driven him and Eowyn apart (not that they'd gotten together, though. _Yet_.) and partly because I'd not spent a lot of time with Faramir in recent days.

=#=#=#=#=

Lunch is subdued at first. Faramir was not quite done thinking when I arrived and I wanted to let him collect himself, a consideration Faramir's grateful nod told me he appreciated.

"Who is the Lady Eowyn?" He asks tentatively after a decent silence. I tilt my head as I think of how to reply.

"She…" Before I could think of anything, Merry came in.

"Oh!" He gasps, panting slightly as if he'd jogged here. "Sorry." He seemed confused until Faramir smiled and motioned him inside.

"Not at all." Faramir assures my friend. "In fact, it is the both of you I have business with." I smile, tilting my head.

"Oh?" Faramir nods.

"Aye. I am curious about the Lady Eowyn, and wish to learn more of her."

"Well…" From there, I launch into my relationship with my sister-in-law. I tell him how she, even when mad at me for getting her brother arrested, tried to make me feel welcomed and loved. The more I talk, the happier Faramir seems to be, although when I bring up her yearning for battle, his eyes sadden.

Not that I blame him. Eowyn's decision, born of a need to prove herself, and a misguided sense of honor, nearly cost her her life. Faramir seemed to glean more information than I think from what I tell him, and honestly, if it urges them forward in their relationship, so be it.

"Have you anything to add?" Merry starts when Faramir addresses him, but sobers and nods, going into how she had smuggled him along to Minas Tirith while she herself posed as a man, how he'd confided in her his feelings about the battle and her response.

It's honestly sobering to hear that this poor little Hobbit had thought he'd never see his friends again, but was still willing to do what he could to make a difference. Then he told us that he wanted to make sure Eowyn knew she was loved, and beautiful, then suddenly tears pricked my eyes (stupid pregnancy hormones!) and I wipe them away before hugging my friend.

"S...Sorry." I mumble, motioning for him to continue. He stares at me for a minute, then nods and goes on to say that he then got separated and when he saw Eowyn facing the Witchking, a terror filled him at the thought of losing his friend, and he crawled over and did what he could to help. I listen with growing admiration and respect for my friend. On and on we went, trading stories and observations, even the small, mundane ones, because Faramir was there, eating them all alive and nodding and paying the utmost attention. Before we knew it, it was hours since we'd started and my butt was _killing_ me, so I stand with a grin.

"C'mon. Let's go for a walk!" I cheer, reaching a hand to help the boys up. Neither accepted, hopping up as if they'd been waiting for me to say something. I just smile and lead them outside to the gardens, where we resume our Eowyn information dump. Again, we lost track of time and didn't realize it was sunset until a servant called and told us to come inside for dinner. Laughing at the way we'd all lost track of time, we headed indoors.

=#=#=#=#=

It felt as if the sun rose the very instant my head hit the pillow, but I still rose and splashed my face with water to fully wake up. Looking around, I find that the twins had hardly stirred when I left the bed. I smile, leave them to sleep, and walk to Eowyn's ward, finding her gazing out the eastward window, as if to spot any change. I sigh and walk over to stand beside her, wrapping my arm around her shoulder.

"Good morning." I great. She leans on me a little and I see the ghost of a grin as we continue to study the red-tinted sky over the Land of Shadow.

"Good morning, sweoster." She finally says, managing to tear her eyes away to look at me as she speaks. "When will he be back?" She whispers, resuming her study. I bite my lip.

"I don't know." I confess honestly. "Vaire never gave a date. All she said was that Eomer would be okay and that he would return." Eowyn worries her lower lip.

"I'm not sure I mean Eomer, though for him I also worry." I nod, knowing who she was talking about and not wanting to get into a debate about her feelings regarding Aragorn.

"They'll be alright." I assure her. "Would you care for a walk?" Eowyn sighs.

"Fresh air would refresh me, I think." I smile.

"Then let's go." Soon, we are trodding all-too familiar paths. "...Can you tell me more about Eomer?" I suddenly ask. In my talks with my mother, I discovered (acknowledged, honestly; the fact had always been there) just how little I knew of Eowyn and Eomer's background and them in general. Eowyn smiles and nods.

"How should I begin?" She asks. I shrug.

"The beginning?" I suggest. "Who are your parents?" I prompt.

"They were Eomund and Theodwyn." Eowyn replies, looking at the ground and swallowing subtly. I pale, but Eowyn stalls any reply I might have given with a raised hand. "Eomer and I have made peace with their losses." Is all she says before detailing how, at eleven years old, Eomer became the man of their household, their mother ailing from grief, fading quickly without the love of her life.

As she talks I listen, committing each detail to memory, as she details moving in with Theoden and how he helped them work through the loss of their parents and how to swing a sword. I fall ever more in love with my new family as I hear everything they'd been through together before I'd come into the picture.

When it was over, I simply hugged my sister-in-law, neither or us having to say anything. But I did, anyway. "Thank you."

"My pleasure." She replies, drawing away and putting a hand on my shoulder. "Now, shall we head inside for breakfast?" I nod eagerly, my stomach confirming its emptiness. I help her up easily and we walk together toward the dining area.

=#=#=#=#=

"Sis! _Sis_!" Comes WIll's voice, slightly shrill because of how excited she was, as she arrives at my side to find me smiling.

"What?" She has her hands on her knees and is panting like she sprinted all the way here. "What's- -" She grabs my hand and yanks me alongside her as she runs back the way she came.

"No time!" She cries. "You _have_ to see this!"

Coming out of the House of Healing, I see- -I kid you not- -a _giant_ eagle! And it's _singing_! The shock wears off in a second and I focus on the words it's singing.

 _Sing and rejoice people of the Tower of Guard,_

 _For your watch hath not been in vain,_

 _And the Black Gate is broken._

 _Your King hath passed through_

 _and he is victorious._

Before I know it, I'm hailing the strange bird and he comes down to land as softly as possible for a giant eagle.

"Begging pardon, sir," I begin, shifting uneasily, "but...did you see the King of Rohan among the returning Lords?" The eagle regards me for a moment.

"You are the Lady Rowena, last of the Istarindi?" I nod.

"Yessir." The eagle nods.

"Your Lord bade me give you a message; he is well and thinking of you with increasing fondness daily." I cheer out loud, leaping up in elation. I'd trusted Vaire, obviously, but...hearing confirmation...I felt the last of my worry fade away and happy tears brim in my eyes.

"If you would, sir, could you tell him I feel the same?" The eagle's chuckle takes a second to register as a chuckle, but then he sobers and turns to eye me again.

"Milady, you may tell him yourself, at the Cormallen, beyond Cair Andros." The eagle replies, a touch of wry humor in his voice. I nod, smiling. _This is the strangest thing I think I've ever done…talking to an eagle..._ I muse inwardly.

"Thank you, kind sir."

"The returning forces will be at Cormallen in two days. He desperately wishes you both to be there." He replies, nodding at me and Eowyn (who'd followed me out), and with that, the eagle takes off and soars away. I turn, laughing giddily to see my family standing there, jaws slack, mouths then slowly forming grins, before they ran forward and hugged me and we ended up a pile on the floor, laughing and cheering.

=#=#=#=#=

"...You wanna run that by me again?" I grumble, arms crossed and frown betraying my anger. Eowyn sighs.

"Sweoster, I've told you. I don't want to go with you to Cormallen." I click my jaw as I step forward, throwing my hands in the air helplessly.

" _Why not_?!" I growl. This was quite possibly the angriest I'd ever been at my friend-sister.

"I...I just...can't." I shake my head.

"No, you just _won't_ , and I don't know _why_!" I retort hotly.

"I don't expect you to." Comes Eowyn's soft reply, her hands resting in her lap, the fingers fiddling together idly. The dejected, empty, sad look on my sister-in-law's face melts my anger and I kneel in front of her, putting my hand on her knee.

"Then _help_ me understand." I beg. She sighs.

"I do not think I can face Aragorn again." She confesses softly. I shake my head, letting out a breathy chuckle.

"Oh, honey." I reply, shaking my head with a smirk. "I don't think that's the issue." She frowns.

"You don't?" I shake my head again.

"No. The issue is you don't want to leave Faramir. At least, that's how it looks to me." She blinks several times as if the thought was just occuring to her. I stand, patting her shoulder. "There's a lot of love in that man, and it's all for you." I assure her before leaving.

=#=#=#=#=

"You really think so?" Faramir asks. I nod.

"Trust me, Faramir; she just _thinks_ she still likes Aragorn. But, her heart is yours." I assure him, knowing full well I might be pushing too far, but needing them to get their heads on right if they're going to live out their happy lives together. "All you have to do is tell her." He takes a deep breath, looking almost uncharacteristically shy and anxious.

"But- -" I shake my head.

"It's almost time for your daily walk. Go on." I shoo him away with waving hands. He chuckles.

"You are most insistent." He remarks as he stands.

"Nah. I'm just stubborn." I retort with a wink, shoving him lightly toward the door. "Now, get going!" I chuckle and he does, laughing as well.

"Thank you." He mumbles. I nod, waving him onward excitedly. I never imagined that I would be able to help my favorite couple get together. Ever. But here I was, matchmaking and loving every second. I can't stop beaming as I overhear Faramir ask a passing servant about where Éowyn was.

=#=#=#=#=

"My answer is the same." Éowyn grumbles. I huff, leaning back in my chair as Eowyn and I eat lunch in her ward.

"Éowyn!"

"I cannot go!" I stomp my fist against the armrest.

"You _can_!" I protest hotly. "Just hop on a horse!" I then take a second to breath for a second. "Eomer requested our presence at Cormallen. _Both_ of us." I sigh. "Eowyn, please. Don't go for Aragorn or stay for Faramir. If you don't go to Eomer, however, you'll regret it." I plead. She sighs.

"I...might go." She concedes. It takes all I have not to bang my head against the table at her vague reply.

=#=#=#=#=

I rode out of the White City on horseback with my family, Eowyn on my right, Mom on my left, and my siblings mere inches behind me. Eowyn had taken persuading, but eventually she saw reason and mounted her horse. When we arrived, it was to find a campfire and lone rider, and it took merely two more strides to discover the rider's identity.

Eomer! At last! I all but fall off my horse when I am close enough, barely remembering to lead it over as I sprinted to him. "Eomer!" I scream in elation and I am swept up in his arms, spun around til we fell down dizzy, laughing and hugging for who knows how long. Eventually, I stand, Eomer helping me up and kissing me hard and passionately as my family looks on in amusement.

"Now, who are your escorts?" Eomer asks, keeping me in his arms.

"Eomer, this is my mother, Meridith, my brother, Aspen, and my sister, Willow."


	47. Returning to Minas Tirith

**IF I KNEW HOW LONG IT'D BEEN SINCE AN UPDATE, I'D HAVE UPDATED SOONER! AAAHHHHH! SORRY!**

 **ForestWarrior: I'm sorry, but the chapter was already over what I normally do, and if I had let myself write another** _ **word**_ **, I'd have never ended it, so...um...here's the rest of it? ;) Happy Belated New Year, I guess!**

 **Me and Not You 1001: Glad you like it, darling! Hope you like this chapter, as well! Complete with more fluffy Eomer PoV!**

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 **GOD BLESS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

 **[Eomer]**

Eomer hadn't said a word since departing from Mordor, chasing the eagle that quickly outpaced him. He simply rode, and _rode_...and _**rode**_ , slowing Firefoot only when he had to grab something to eat, if only to sustain himself so he could be at peak readiness for when he met his darling Winnie again. He arrived nearly a complete day before anyone else and set up camp at the Cormallen. Since then, he'd simply been waiting by his fire.

And then...he heard horses approach. His head snapped up and watched as out of the surrounding woods came a total of five horses, two of which contained the women he valued most, the others holding people he didn't know, two young and one older. Before he could even take a step toward them, Rowena was practically falling off her horse to get to him, subconsciously leading her horse over before he swept her into a warm embrace, swinging her around with utmost elation.

That is, until he tripped over his feet and the pair tumbled to the ground, laughing and still embracing. It's then he remembers that Rowena is carrying their child- -or child _ren_ , if his dream is to be taken as a glimpse of the future- -and helps her up. He then gives up all pretense of control and kisses his wife hard and passionately.

It's then that he brings up the guests who bore a resemblance to Rowena, now he'd seen them up close, gently keeping his wife in his arms, as if afraid she'd disappear if he were to release her.

"Now, who are your escorts?"

 **[Rowena]**

I bite my lip, smiling giddily. I could introduce my husband to my family.

So I do, noting Willow's almost disconcerted expression with worry.

"Eomer, this is my mother, Meridith, my sister, Willow, and my brother, Aspen. Family, this is Eomer, my husband." Eomer nods, and I can see the subtle trepidation in his eyes. Of course he'd be nervous. He'd told me that the parents played a large part in the courtship of couples in Rohan. But our relationship had been virtually unknown to my mother, on account of the fact that my family was on another world.

Until now. My mom is the first to approach, and after a moment of just staring at him, gives him a big hug. Eomer is stunned, then slowly hugs her back, as if scared to believe that this was happening.

"Thank you for not letting my daughter be alone in this new world." She murmurs, pulling back a little to smile at him. She then grabs his ear unexpectedly. "But why in _Ifreaan_ would you let Rowena go into _war_ with you?!" Eomer winces, surprised and uncomfortable. The whole scene is somehow comical to me and I force my chuckle down and step forward.

"Ma! Stop! I insisted! Let him go!" I call, but Mom holds up a finger at me.

"I want to hear his side." She replies, easing just a little on the pinch to his ear. Eomer yanks it free and massages it while replying.

"You daughter and I have similar views on battle, milady." He begins, daring a smirk. Mom crosses her arms, but doesn't say anything. "That if either of us can prevent anything happening to the other by being present with them through peril, then that is what we shall do. That," He continues, still smirking, locking eyes with me. "and she is very stubborn about her desires and set in her plans." I nod.

"Darn straight." I reply, coming over and hugging Eomer. "Everything we do, we do together." Eomer nods in agreement, leaning down to lightly kiss me. Mom nods.

"Good. All I needed to know." I roll my eyes. Typical mom.

Eomer then kisses me one last time before reluctantly letting me go to hug Éowyn, who'd been watching the scene with an amused smirk that turned full smile when she saw her brother approach her. "Sweoster!" Eomer cries, sweeping her around once.

"Hello, Aaron." She replies, sounding genuinely happy. "I am so happy to see you." Eomer nods, kissing her forehead.

"To be honest, Éowyn, given what happened with Aragorn…" She holds up a hand.

"That is in the past." Eomer raises a brow.

"Oh? How did this come to be?" I smile and put a hand on Eowyn's shoulder.

"You'll see when we get to Minas Tirith, love." I reply smoothly and Eowyn side-eyes me gratefully. "Now, I, for one, am _hungry_! Let's eat!" I propose, clapping and moving to start getting food from my bag. "What do we have here..?" I mumble coyly, grabbing around in my trusty satchel and smiling when I feel an apple. I draw it out and absently toss it to Eomer before getting one myself. We share a laugh at our inside joke, leaving my family looking confused, but amused at the same time. "Oh, sorry. Um...Eomer and I, uhh, well, shortly after we met, first morning he was in the dungeon- -books, not plays, Will. Look it up-" I interject when Will gives me a 'I object!' look that means she thinks I'm wrong (I rarely am), "-I felt bad for sticking him in there, so I popped down with some apples as a way to...start conversation, I guess. I handed him an apple and that was that. Ever since, we always remember that morning as the start of our friendship, though we didn't stay just friends for long." I have to giggle at that, remembering how rushed but sincere our relationship had been. "We didn't really know each other then, but it was a pretty simple time. Now things have gotten crazy, it's nice to remember those times." I didn't even realize that I was rambling and progressively getting cuddlier and cuddlier with Eomer, and that everyone looked slightly uncomfortable, but unwilling to say anything until Will cleared her throat. "...Uh...sorry." I squeak, flushing and getting a little less clingy, only to be pulled into a fierce, loving, protective embrace and kiss. For several moments, I knew nothing else but Eomer and the thousand emotions he poured into the kiss.

"I never knew I could fall more in love with you, healsgebedda." He whispers, leaning his forehead against mine. I hug him.

"And I with you, though I don't know what you called me." I retort. He smiles that 'mushy romantic that can't tell how you'll react' smile.

"Beloved wife." He translates. I quirk a brow. _Two can play at this game, darling_.

"And I you, fear toilichte." I retort genuinely. As predicted, he tilts his head, adorably confused as we let each other stand normally, though we didn't stray too far at all, hands entwined. I lean in to stage-whisper in his ear. "Beloved husband." I translate as we make our way to the campsite. It's then I remember that I had completely dominated things since our arrival, so I let my siblings question my poor husband, who took it all in good grace.

"Did you really take two Mummakil down with one spear, like in our stories?" Eomer nods.

"It was luck, mainly, but yes. Everything happened fortunately enough that two of those beasts were taken down with one throw. And, you know, Rowena took one down, as well. Took two of her weapon's munitions, but it went down." He replies, eyeing me in adoration and respect, and I find that's what I love about him. He didn't love my body or any physical characteristic about me. He loved and respected _me_ , with all my quirks and strangeness. And I, in turn, loved and respected _him_ , with his own set of quirks and big heart under that armor.

And that's why we made such a great couple.

=#=#=#=#=

The ride back to Minas Tirith took place after the rest of the ragged, exhausted army caught up to us. And that was only after an hour of my insisting we wait for everyone else.

They caught up to our campsite in the early evening and there was much rejoicing as I got to hug Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf, and Aragorn again, though as soon as I had hugged them and had them all in my sights, I turned a hard stare on each of them.

"Don't you _dare_ even _think_ about doing something this stupid, reckless and crazy again! And if, Eru forbid, we have to, don't go without me! Got it?!" I growl, and they all assure me they would take me along on their next outing. I then beam at them and hug them all again, thanking them.

It was then that I was led to a small tent on the side of the camp by an eager Pippin. "You finally get to meet them!" Is the only explanation I can get from him as we enter the tent to see two more Hobbits on cots, unconscious and looking worse for the wear. _Much_ worse. Instantly, I know who they are.

"I never knew just how bad Frodo got…" I whisper, taking the sight of him in.

"How do you know Frodo?" Pippin asks.

"Remember? I told you this whole war is a tale and play series in my world." Pippin nods.

"Now I do." I smile.

"I'm glad it's all over now." I muse, looking back over the poor Hobbits on the cots. I'd never really _seen_ the toll the journey took on Frodo and Sam, and now I felt guilty. Their scrapes and bruises had been treated and they looked peaceful.

"I'm glad, too." I then exit the tent and find that Merry, who joined the camp around the same time everyone else had, was chatting away with Willow. And that they were holding hands and smiling warmly at one another. Leaving them to their talk, I make my way back to my husband. "Hello, darling." I greet, hugging him from behind. He squirms around to hug me back, kissing me. "This is amazing." I muse, gesturing around to the campsite. "This...peace." Eomer wraps his arms just a bit tighter around me as he hums in agreement.

"I quite agree, my love." He whispers in my ear. Then quirks a brow as his hands find my stomach. "There's already a bump…" He muses, rubbing to confirm his statement. I smile. I'd always meant to tell him about the twins, the second I got the opportunity.

"That's what happens when you're expecting twins." I tell him happily, turning to look him in the eyes to find...shock, but also...confirmation?

"So it's true." He murmurs. I still smile, but can tell I look really confused.

"What?" How could he- -

"I had a dream. It was Yuletide, and our children came into our room. There were two, and, somehow, I knew they were twins." I grin elatedly.

"It's true! Vaire told me, and- -"  
"Vaire?" Eomer interjects, frowning, "As in, the Weaver of Time?" I nod.

"Yep!" I shrug, "She came by in a dream to tell me you're gonna come back, that my family was coming, and that I was carrying twins, not just one kid." I reply. Eomer shakes his head, bemused.

"I love you, my queen." He murmurs, leaning his head on mine.

"And I love you, my king." I whisper back, twining my fingers in his hair.

=#=#=#=#=

The ride to Minas Tirith was slow going. There were many wounded and many people that couldn't go fast. It gave me an opportunity to talk to Willow.

"Are you okay?" I ask. "When you met Eomer, you looked...uncomfortable." She scratches the back of her neck.

"It's just...he's so _big_!" She squeaks. "And to know he's married to you and, well...your pregnant...I guess it's just a lot to take in and get used to." I nod.

"That's perfectly understandable." I assure her. "I was just curious and hadn't had a moment to ask." She nods, then Merry comes over.

"Hullo, Winnie!" He greets cheerily, automatically side-hugging my little sister. I smile.

"Hullo, Merry!" I return. "Feel like I haven't seen you since you caught up to us." I muse, hoping he would get the hint and tell me what he was up to. Thankfully, Merry gets it, even if Will didn't (that I can tell).

"That's because I was introducing myself to your wonderful family!" He explains. "Shameful, you not doing the job yourself, Highness…" He teases. Will swats his arm playfully.

"Mer! Knock it off! She was reuniting with her friends and husband!" She protests, but Merry merely winks at her.

"I'm only having a laugh, dear." He jokes. Will blushes and I raise a brow.

"'Dear'?" I quote questioningly. Merry laughs, but there's red in his cheeks, as well.

"I'd- -well, I was- -you see, I was merely, ah- -"

"Oh, shut up!" I interject, laughing. "I'm already suffering from second-hand embarrassment here!" I tease. "Well, I think I'll just give you two some privacy." I muse, then pretend to suddenly turn stern and point a finger at Merry. "And I expect a ring on her finger before any funny business happens." I then leave swiftly as the pair splutter and stammer for a reply.

=#=#=#=#=

The rest of the ride went too quickly and too slow all at once. There was not nearly enough time for all the catching up I needed to do, and I wasn't eager to return and face returning…

And Theoden's funeral. I knew we'd have to do it eventually, but...I didn't want to. Not yet. I wanted to cling to the peace and joy we'd found now that the War was over and everything was settling down.

Nearing Minas Tirith was interesting, as a deaf man could hear the army coming, and as such, they had time to prepare everything to way-over-the-top proportions.

Aragorn had, naturally, was aware of what came next for him (coronation- -yet another thing I personally was not looking forward to; my own coronation as Queen of Rohan- -ruling, etc) and cleaned himself up. Halbarad brought forth a marvelous white cloak to clasp around my friend's throat with a large green jewel that seemed somehow to be significant to everyone but me.

"That is the Elfstone, milady." Halbarad murmurs softly in explanation when I ask as I watch Aragorn continue to prepare himself. I nod.

"Meaning what, precisely?" Halbarad smiles at me like he would a child who asked a ridiculous question he found amusing. And to him, it was. I should know what that stone meant, for apparently everyone does.

Everyone except me, of course.

"Meaning, it denotes his rank and identity without needing to introduce himself." I nod again. It was truly striking me now, just how important Aragorn truly was, to Gondor, to the whole of Middle-Earth. From what I gather, Gondor is easily one of, if not _the_ most prevalent people groups in Arda, their size a large factor in that ranking.

It also reminds me of my own importance now, as Queen of a nation that would need to struggle to regain its footing after the Wildmen and Orcs had ravaged it. Just the thought of the coronation makes my stomach churn uneasily a little.

So, of course, that's the moment Eomer approaches, in a more formal wine red tunic and a clean pair of brown trousers on. "Though you look ravishing in any attire, my love," He begins, smirking, "you must prepare yourself." I frown.

"For...what, precisely?" I ask, thoroughly confused. Eomer chuckles, side-hugging me and kissing my temple.

"The acceptance of Aragorn as King of Gondor." I pale.

"Wait...what?" I blurt. Eomer looks me dead-on, confused.

"Did you not know? We're going to be beside him." It's at that moment the churning turns far worse and I have to run to a bush and hurl.


	48. The Days of Peace Begin

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 **Forest Warrior: I love, love, love your reviews and the nice things you say! XD**

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 **Emperor DeLacus: (on 46) Glad you like the Eomer PoV bits, friend! Believe me, I was** _ **tempted**_ **to have Rowena go to the Black Gates and kick major Orc behind, but then she was discovered to be pregnant and I decided I couldn't find a way that Rowena would be allowed to go to Mordor, so that was that! ;) Anyway, I could be convinced to do an alternate version where she didn't know she was preggers yet and goes to Mordor, if you (or anyone) are interested. Her relationship with the other characters is something I myself wanted to flesh out, so there's that! Glad you liked that aspect, as well!**

 **My New Years was chill. I, unfortunately, had to work, but it wasn't that busy, so it wasn't horrible. Take your time, friend! I enjoy all reviews you send, whenever you can spare the time! XD**

 **(on 47) Glad you liked the O'Niel's intro to Eomer and vice versa! Her mom is protective and knows her daughter wouldn't marry the guy without good reason, but couldn't resist messing with him a bit! ;) Here's more for yah!**

 **Guest: Here you go!**

 **Greasy Snivelus: A) Nice penname! XD B) Vaire actually went 'before you all fall into depression, may as well tell you the good news so I don't have to deal with all this crap!', but you were close! ;)**

 **THERE ARE A LOT OF REVIEWS LEFT BY THE AMAZING Lady Hwinnien, BUT I CAN'T REPLY TO THEM HERE. THERE'S GONNA BE ANOTHER CHAPTER FOR THOSE BECAUSE THEY LEFT A LOT OF AMAZING REVIEWS!**

 **HERE'S A NEW CHAPTER FOR YOU ALL TO ENJOY! YAY! HOPE YOU ALL LIKE AND SORRY FOR THE INEXCUSABLE TIME THIS TOOK!**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

 **[Éomer]**

In retrospect, he should have asked or told Rowena about standing with Aragorn during his acceptance and coronation _much_ sooner. At least then, she'd have had more than ten minute's warning.

As it was, he was so wrapped up in his own preparations (which involved brushing his massively tangled hair out and trying to make it look semi-acceptable before Eowyn stepped in and braided the sides of his hair away from his face) and ended up assuming someone- -maybe Eowyn?- -would tell his wife. When she was not prepared as he approached her, he was surprised, but there was still time. Perhaps she'd merely lost track of time?

So he told her, thinking it was merely a reminder for her, but was _not_ prepared for her to promptly run over to a bush and retch up the breakfast they'd shared not four hours ago. Instantly, Éomer was at her side and pulling her hair back, eying his wife worriedly.

 **[Rowena]**

"Rowena?!" Éomer asks worriedly, quickly pulling my hair back before I manage to get puke in it. I sit there, panting, but feeling better now.

"Sorry." I manage, voice raspy. "Surprised that took as long as it did. Puking's a pretty common thing for pregnant ladies." I explain, grimacing a little and wiping my mouth as I straighten up. Éomer rubs my back and gives me a small smile.

"Let's hope this won't be _too_ common, love." I nod.

"You and me both, hun." I groan, leaning against him a little as I stand up. "Guess my stomach didn't like the thought of being in front of everyone." I joke lamely, and let Éomer support me as we walk back to our tent.

"Nothing to be ashamed of, min leof. Now, I shall leave you to prepare." He says with a grin and a peck on the lips.

I nod, returning the grin and the kiss before straightening up and walking into the tent. I then exhale to calm myself and proceed to pick out a simple, almost golden-colored underdress to wear under an emerald bodice with attached skirt. The bodice-skirt was bordered with simple swirls that remind me of Meduseld, with simplistic horse heads every so often. It was gorgeously simple, yet elegant.

Now dressed, I move to grab a red cloak. I thought it best to include the common colors of Rohan in my attire, seeing as I was one of the highest-ranking officials in the land now and needed to represent that. Now ready, I pulled my hair into a simple half-up style and used the basin of water to quickly wash my face and drink away the lingering taste of puke.

Taking one last breath and look around the tent, I exit and take Éomer's arm, just in time to make our way to the head of the procession accompanying Aragorn, along with Halbarad and the Grey Company

It's members were noticeably depleted, but all of them gave us warm, welcoming smiles as we pass by. There, too, were Seanathair and the Hobbits, including Frodo and Sam, now awake and looking a lot better.

Merry and Pippin waved cheerily at us as Sam nudged Frodo and gestured to me, murmuring and looking confused. Surmising the situation (and wanting to finally introduce myself to him), I walk over with Éomer.

I decide to start with the basics. "Hello." I greet. Sam and Frodo have the good grace to look a bit sheepish about being caught staring at and talking about me.

"H-hello, ma'am." Sam greets. I extend a hand.

"You must be Samwise Gamgee. The rest of the Fellowship told me a lot about you two." I introduce, and found it wasn't strictly a lie; once I'd asked and gotten Aragorn and Merry to tell me the whole story, I'd learned a good deal about Sam and Frodo, but most of it was repeating elements I already knew. Sam blushes.

"Sure half of it was bloated and exaggerated, miss." I chuckle.

"Nonsense." I retort. "And now I realize I have yet to tell you my name." I muse, smiling. "I'm Rowena, apparently Queen of Rohan, now that, uh...well, everything's changed." I go on, voice cracking slightly as I try to avoid outright saying Theoden was dead. Somehow, it didn't feel real, and I wanted to continue that feeling, just a little longer. "And this is my husband, Éomer." I continue as Éomer shakes the Hobbit's hands. Frodo seems to pick up what I'm not verbalizing and deftly moves away from that awkward subject.

"I am Frodo Baggins." He introduces. I nod.

"Heard about you, too. No easy task you had, Frodo." I reply, shaking his hand once Éomer was through.

"'Tis still not easy, even now it's done." He mumbles.

"I can only imagine." I then shake myself. "Now, I believe Aragorn's about to move out." I re-take Éomer's arm. "Shall we?" I ask rhetorically. Both Éomer and the Hobbits agree and so we walk over to the procession, me trying to quiet my deep breaths.

"Now I've met a King and Queen!" Sam gushes behind me, in a tone meant to be quiet enough that I wouldn't hear.

But I did. Frodo chuckles.

"Two Kings, actually, Sam. Aragorn is being crowned King of Gondor." Sam nods.

"Right." I smile, but don't do anything more as we walk. I found Sam even cuter in person than in the books and movies, if that were possible.

Before the walls of Minas Tirith, Faramir stands with soldiers both of Gondor and the Mark, and countless civilians had gathered, as well, making me all the more nervous. As we came out of the gathered crowd, Aragorn drew himself up regally, transforming before all eyes to the great Lord of Men he was. His long white cape, clasped with the Elfstone, glimmered and glowed in the sun as he strode slowly, confidently some unknown cue, a single trumpet blast sounded and Aragorn and Faramir began striding toward each other, as well as a quartet of Citadel guards bearing what looked like a casket. Confused, I could only watch as Faramir knelt before Aragorn, holding up a pure white staff across his hands.

"The last Steward of Gondor begs leave to surrender his office." He said. Aragorn, however, pushes it back.

"That office is not yet ended." He replies gently. "And it shall by thine and thy heirs' as long as my line shall last. Do now thy office!" Faramir then stood reverently and faced the crowd.

"Men of Gondor," He calls in a loud, clear voice. Suddenly, just standing here, not having to give speeches and perform ceremonies, doesn't seem so bad. "hear now the Steward of this Realm! Behold! One has come to claim the kingship again at last. Here is Aragorn, cheiftain of the Dunedain of Arnor, Captain of the Host of the West, Bearer of the Star of the North, Wielder of the Sword Reforged, victorious in battle, whose hands bring healing, the Elfstone, Ellesar of the line of Valandil, Isildur's son, Elendil's son of Numenor." There's no way I'd be able to remember all of those titles. I wonder how Faramir does it. "Shall he be king and enter into the city and dwell there?" He asks, though it was already abundantly clear what the answer was, even before we all answered in one voice.

" _Yes_!" I'd never been prouder of my friends as when Aragorn beams at the crowd and Faramir can truly smile in happiness. Then, we walk toward the highest portion of the city in a grand procession. Aragorn led the way in an enviable show of confidence and ease. I can't help but watch in awe. If he were even the slightest bit nervous, he didn't show it. At all. Beside me, my husband had a stoic face on, and I tried to follow suite.

It took longer than you'd think to get everyone that could fit in the large plaza thing on the very top of Minas Tirith up there. The rest crowded everywhere else, trying to stay close enough to at least hear what was going on. Every window in the vicinity was absolutely chalked full of eager, happy faces. I hold Eomer's hand as we find our places along an aisle, noticing that the tree in the courtyard had blossomed and the gentle wind had shaken petals loose.

There, too, was Eowyn, garbed in a lovely white dress, standing across from us. Faramir was smiling directly at her. I smile at them and they smile back, giddy as everyone else. Faramir then motions the casket bearers forward, explaining that the usual custom was for the new king to retrieve the crown alone from the tomb of the previous king. But, circumstances being what they are, Faramir had already ordered the casket retrieved and brought forth. Faramir held it aloft. And _holy crap_! That thing is impressive! There's something similar to the guard's helmets with its construction, but only in the obviously Gondorian style. It leaves the top of the head bare, reaching fairly high on his head. There are seven diamond-like gems in the front, but the one in the center is the largest, reflecting all light and I have to look away and at Eomer or I'd probably be blinded.

"By the labour and valour of many, I have come into my inheritance. In token of this, I would have the Ring Bearer bring the crown to me, and Mithrandir set it upon my head, if he will; for he has been the mover of all that has been accomplished, and this is his victory." Aragorn says, and I look at his breastplate to avoid the bright gem in the crown he still holds. Frodo pales a little, so I give him an encouraging smile and subtle nod. Frodo then squares his shoulders and strides forward, accepting the crown and carrying it to Seanathair, who strode forward when Aragorn mentioned him. He takes the crown, smiling at Frodo and Frodo grins back before returning to his former position. The other Hobbits whisper to him, but then the ceremony continues and they stop.

"Now comes the days of the King." He calls, resting the crown on Aragorn's head. "May they be blessed." He says, softer. I barely caught it before everyone starts applauding and cheering. Aragorn stands and slowly turns. He surveys the cheering and whooping crowd gratefully, looking every inch the King he truly is. I can't help feeling awed and a little starstruck as he takes one last breath. As if the crowd could tell he was about to speak, they stop and wait.

"As I have said, this day does not belong to one man, but to all of us. Let us together rebuild this world, that we may share it in the days of peace." He says, and the crowd applauds again. Then, they quiet, and Aragorn takes a step forward. "Et earello, endorenna utulien. Sinome maruvan, ar hildinyar. Tenn Ambar-metta." he sings, and it is better than anything I've ever heard or could ever do. It doesn't matter that I can't understand what he said. Aragorn then slowly descends the stairs, and the people form an aisle. I stand beside Eomer, giddy and truly at peace for the first time in a long time. This was what we'd fought for. What we'd earned, with blood, sweat, and tears. We'd fought and won this peace, and now it's up to us to make sure it's a lasting one.

There is still work to do, but this...this is a moment to celebrate all we'd accomplished. Aragorn smiles at me, and I curtsey, but then can't help giving him a thumbs up. He seems slightly confused, but moves on without further ado.

Up ahead, Legolas and other elves walk toward the new king of Gondor. Aragorn puts his hands on his friend's shoulder and Legolas does the same. They share a smile and then Legolas nods over his shoulder, seemingly at an Elven flagbearer. It's a lovely, off-white flag with the symbol of Gondor embroidered on it, shimmering in the sun. Aragorn, curious, approaches. The bearer moves the flag just enough to allow Aragorn to identify them, revealing a lovely female in a light green dress. She seems important, both in rank (judging by the crown-like thing on her head) and to each other, with some kind of unresolved history, because neither believe the other is there, by the looks on their faces. Aragorn forgets everything else and slowly, dazedly, walks to her. She slowly bows her head, but Aragorn simply lifts it back up, a 'what are you doing?' look on his face as he moves the flag aside. He then gently guides her face back up. He then kisses her like Eomer kissed me the first time. It was raw emotion and love. I suppose _that_ was the unresolved history.

The crowd claps, and I can't help but join in. I then steal a glance at Eowyn to find her face peaceful and genuinely happy, so I let myself clap harder. The pair share another kiss, then the lady hugs Aragorn and they stay hugging for a moment. Once they're finished, Aragorn and the Elven woman walked down the courtyard, the crowd parting in front of them. They found their way past many adoring members of the crowd.

I'm tempted to follow them, but Eomer stays, so I decide to stay with him. I see the crowd stop moving, and I notice Aragorn saying something, then he and the lady with him bow, the crowd following their king. I bow, as well, though to- -aww! We're bowing to the Hobbits! That's so sweet of Aragorn! Eomer smiles at me as we stand. I side-hug him, relishing the kiss he presses to my temple.

This felt so different from the war we'd just won, and I looked forward to figuring out what to do next, despite knowing it would not be all smooth sailing. We'd experience hard times and rough sailing, but we'd deal with each in stride when they came.

Together.


End file.
